Patterns of Love
by Hieronym
Summary: Middle school for Chiaki et al. means the addition of volatile hormones. The center cannot hold and the status quo shifts. Denouement?
1. Prologue: Chance Encounter

Author's Note: My second attempt at a long Minami-ke story, this time with a different focus. You might notice that the first chapter here is a direct tie in with my first such story. This wasn't planned initially, but I realized that it would make for a good start. I do intend for this to be a direct sequel. The title comes from an episode title I particularly liked.

Update: 12/22/10 So I accidentally deleted a couple of lines in the middle… (also, more thematic consistency)

* * *

_One day, on a forest trail near one of Yoshino's country villas..._

Makoto recoiled from the collision, rubbing his face painfully.

"Ow!"

"Damn it, Mako-chan!" Touma complained. "Can't you walk without stepping all over other people's feet? I'm the one who should be saying 'Ow'!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he apologized, bowing up and down.

Their flashlights shone like beacons in front of them, their light cones saccading back and forth like the insects they illuminated. The lights gave the bare branches of the trees around them a ghostly pallor, but at least kept them from painfully colliding into anything.

"Why are you following Touma so closely, anyway?" asked Chiaki.

"Well, er, this—are you sure this forest is safe?" Makoto asked. "What if there are wolves or something?"

Wolves were secretly one of his great fears.

_Damn it, Makoto,_ Touma thought. _You have got to be the girliest guy I—no, wait, that goes without saying._

Her preoccupation delayed her reaction to Chiaki's sudden about-face.

Touma pulled back, barely avoiding a collision. Mako-chan, however, rammed into Touma's shoulder, though their thick jackets blunted the impact somewhat.

"Don't stop like that!" said Touma, complaining to Chiaki this time.

"Sorry," Chiaki responded perfunctorily, shining her light in Makoto's face, mind clearly not focused on her apology.

"Anyway," she continued. "You heard Yoshino! This place is perfectly safe. Stop being so cowardly! Give Touma some space. If you can't handle it, then just cling onto her shoulder so you won't run into her."

Mako-chan was about to take that latter piece of advice, but then Touma gave him a look that said, "Seriously?"

"I really recommend you don't, though," Chiaki said, less harsh. "You need to learn to be a little more assertive. And daring."

At this, he summoned what male pride he had left and fell back a few paces.

Chiaki still thought he was a sempai so meek that she actually had standing to try and reform him. A sempai! And all his previous attempts to dissuade her of the notion had, in one way or another, actually strengthened it.

He sighed. It was just something he lived with now.

The dead leaves and branches under their feet crackled as they walked.

"Well, mission accomplished, I guess," commented Chiaki, a long moment later.

"What do you mean?" asked Touma.

"Well, if we had gone with the rest of them to those hot spring baths, you would have been forced to join us on the girls' side, and your cover would have been blown with Fujioka. That's the real reason we're out here, right?"

"Ah, well, yes," Touma responded. She had somehow forgotten the real purpose of their trip.

"So like I said, mission accomplished. Though I wonder..."

She dragged out the sentence, waiting for Touma to indicate that she was paying attention.

"Yes?" Touma asked. "Wonder what?"

"Is it really a good idea to keep him in the dark like this? He's going to find out someday. I really don't think you can keep this up. I mean, he might be learning the truth from Natsuki as we speak."

"I hadn't thought of that," Touma said, genuinely thoughtful and surprised. "That bastard better not be—"

"Don't dodge the point!" Chiaki insisted. "Why is this so important to you anyway?"

Touma looked at Chiaki, then looked pointedly away. There was something deeply unsettling about the whole situation.

"It...it just is. I can't explain it. Besides, aren't you the one who put me up to this?"

Chiaki didn't respond, looking suddenly pensive.

Touma navigated carefully around a mildly treacherous part of the trail, avoiding. Why _was_ it so important to her? She didn't even know what she would do if he ever found out.

And for Chiaki herself to ask…

"I wonder why it matters so much…" Chiaki sighed, looking pensive, as if she was no longer even talking to Touma.

"I told you—" Touma began.

"No, nevermind." Chiaki responded, shaking her head.

Touma watched her as she gathered her thoughts.

"Anyway," Chiaki added, straightening her posture. "Makoto has been following you home a lot lately."

Chiaki stopped, looking uncomfortable.

Touma grimaced, and opened her mouth to speak, but too late.

"It couldn't possibly be that you two..." Chiaki said, swaying a little as she walked. "Could it? Isn't it kind of early? I don't know if I would really approve…"

Chiaki was being strangely diffident. It was out of character for her—but Touma had bigger problems at the moment.

_She noticed him following me? Damn it! And I thought we were being discreet!_

Touma bought herself some time to think by making a big show of climbing up a minor gradient in the trail, keeping her eyes fixed on the muddy ground.

Just over one month ago, Makoto's mother had finally caught him in the act of changing into his Mako-chan outfit. What was worse, his by then extensive collection of female clothing had been exposed in plain sight, due to him carelessly leaving the box open right next to him.

Capitalizing on his mother's reluctance to see the truth, Makoto had improvised a complicated explanation involving a school project, some sort of dare, and spare hairclips.

Oh, yes, and he had also implied that the clothes were borrowed from a "special friend" of his—he had decided he needed to bolster his male credentials to further show the impossibility of him being a cross-dresser.

When she demanded corroboration, he was really in a fix. After all, he couldn't ask Chiaki or Yoshino, and Uchida might just take it too seriously, which left...Touma.

Backing up his story had been a rather...interesting experience.

In addition, in order to prevent any future such incidents, all clothing belonging to "Mako-chan" was now stored at her house, which had the added bonus of being usable to deflect Natsuki's constant assertions that she was too boyish. Her brothers got home relatively late, so it all worked out.

Unfortunately, it seemed Chiaki had noticed his frequent trips to her house.

Makoto seriously owed her. She was still deciding how to make him pay her back. But for now, it looked like his situation would be the gift that just kept on giving.

Stepping over a fallen branch, she also wondered why Mako-chan hadn't started spluttering or trying to change the subject. Maybe he just hadn't heard.

She cleared her throat. She had successfully thought through how to deal with this.

"Actually, no. Nothing of the sort. We've just decided to help each other on our studying, that's all."

She stopped.

"Uchida shows up every once in a while too," she added, defensively, too late.

"I see," Chiaki, the expression of relief flashing across her face replaced by an expression of hurt.

"Why would you do that?" she asked. "Why not just ask me? I helped you guys get into that school, after all. I'd be glad to."

"Ah, well," Touma said, backtracking in the face of Chiaki's unusual behavior. "We just didn't want to keep being such a burden on you."

"You don't have to worry about it..."

Suddenly, Touma's flashlight started flickering, briefly giving the trees in front of them a staccato lighting effect, before going out entirely and imbuing the darkness with a newfound strength.

"I guess Yoshino was right," Touma commented, annoyed, banging the head of the flashlight into the palm of her hand. This thing really was running out of batteries. I should have just let her change it."

She considered the dead device in her hand.

"Hey Mako-chan, toss me the spares!" She said loudly, directing her voice toward the "girl" behind them.

No one answered.

Touma abruptly realized that two flashlight beams were all they had seen for quite a while.

"Mako-chan?" Chiaki asked, worried.

They turned around.

He was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

_Well, it's quite a fine fix you've gotten yourself into this time, Mako-chan._

_I need to stop calling myself that..._

He had slipped off the trail, sliding soundlessly down a mud gulley, still wet from recent rains. He had yelled, startled, too late, but he realized now that he hadn't heard them say anything back.

_How could they not have heard me?_

"Hey, c'mon guys, it's not funny! I'm stuck here!"

No response.

He really was stuck there. He was at the bottom of a small, steep ravine with sides coated in slippery mud. He couldn't head back up, only down the hill—and that seemed riskier than just staying there.

It didn't help that he seemed to have sprained his ankle, making each step an agony once he had managed to get back up.

He leaned against a short tree and yelled again:

"Touma? Chiaki? Anyone?"

He looked forlornly at his flashlight, lightbulb shattered in the fall. At least he had managed to hold onto it, for what little good that did him.

_If it were working, I could wave it to attract attention, or at the very least see what's around me._

He sighed and sat back down into the mud, too uncaring and in too much pain to remain standing. His jeans—nice and feminine to match the rest of his outfit—were ruined already, so it didn't matter. The cold was starting to bite into him, despite his thick jacket.

_This is serious! I don't want to die of exposure! Or wolves..._

Alright. He would keep yelling for a while longer, and if he still didn't see any help, he would start heading downhill and pray to successfully reach one of the farmers in the valley below.

_They must have noticed by now! Right?_

"Hey! Anyone there? I'm stuck down here! My flashlight is out!

Something rustled behind him. He turned rapidly, but couldn't see into the bushes at all.

_Alright_, he told himself, hand on head,_ get a grip. There are no wolves out here. It was probably just a rabbit or something I startled._

"Mako-chan!"

Chiaki's voice, coming as it did from above him, seemed at that moment roughly akin to the voice of an angel.

"Down here! Down here! My flashlight is broken!" he yelled, only his ankle keeping him from jumping up and down and waving his arms.

The harsh glare of a flashlight shone into Makoto's eyes, temporarily blinding him, and when he saw finally through it, to Chiaki and Touma looking down at him, a halo of light surrounding them, the angelic effect became even more pronounced.

He held up his left hand to block the light a little.

"You baka-yaro! How the hell did you fall down there? Do you know how worried we were? Baka-yaro! Making us come get you..."

As he watched in horror, she stepped downward, apparently not aware what kind of surface she was stepping onto.

"Wait, Chiaki!" He and Touma yelled simultaneously, Touma automatically reaching forward to grab Chiaki's fur-hooded collar and pull her back.

It was a mistake. Touma pulled too hard, toppling her backward just as her feet reached the ground—causing said feet to slide and immediately fly upward.

"Shit—" began Touma.

Chiaki slipped uncontrollably down the surface, yelling just as Makoto had. She let go of the flashlight, which spun into the air and landed behind her. Touma, who should have let go, instead clung on, trying to keep Chiaki up, and lost her balance, following Chiaki downward.

Acting instinctively, Makoto ran forward, for a moment oblivious to the pain in his ankle, preparing to catch them—

The impact sent him immediately into the ground, his rear painfully absorbing the shock. His ankle screamed obscenities at him.

For a moment, he was too stunned to react.

It was Touma who propped herself up first, getting off of Chiaki's back while grabbing her stomach where it had slammed into Chiaki, grimacing.

"Damn it..."

There was an instant, only an instant, when, realizing that his face had planted itself perfectly into the middle of Chiaki's chest, her legs kneeling on his arms, Makoto almost overreacted and shoved her away.

Instead, he drew on over a year of experience as "Mako-chan" and held himself back, waiting for her to push herself up and stand. As she did so, he noted trivially that her knees were skinned.

He couldn't suppress a blush, but fortunately, in the now almost total darkness, Chiaki couldn't see it.

They looked at each other for a while, saying nothing. Touma and Chiaki tried various things to get back up, which Makoto just watched, knowing from painful experience that nothing would work. Touma disappeared into some bushes, but before they could call her back, she returned on her own.

"Well, Chiaki, that was pretty stupid," said Touma, finally, breaking the silence, wiping her hands on her pants.

"Says you!" Chiaki responded indignantly. "If you hadn't pulled me—"

"Whatever," Touma said, waving her hand dismissively. "Let's not argue about that. Let's focus on the situation at hand."

She began tallying on her fingers, pausing to shake off some of the mud on her shoe.

"One. We seem to have slid down into some sort of strange ravine. The wall we slid down is slippery with mud and doesn't seem to have any sort of branches we can climb up on. Is that right, Mako-chan?"

"Climbing back up is the first thing I tried," he responded. "I fell. Three times. I gave up."

"Two. That way-" Touma turned to her right and pointed. "It goes uphill, but it bends _away_ from the trail, doesn't it?"

"I tried that too, once I realized you guys hadn't noticed." Makoto said, moderately peeved that Touma was so easily using logic to dismiss lines of action as untenable. He had learned all that the hard way, of course.

"I turned around when I realized," he finished.

"What kind of idiotic place is this, anyway? Ravines don't just carve themselves in hillsides for no reason! I demand an accounting!" Chiaki said to no one in particular, waving a fist that would probably have planted itself into Kana by default, had she been here.

"Well," said Touma. "It's not really a ravine. I'm pretty sure we could climb the other side if we had any idea where that went. It's more like we slid into the gap between two hills on the mountainside."

"I still say it's stupid. Just think of the topography—"

"Guys!" Makoto insisted, breaking up the argument that threatened to sidetrack them.

They turned to look at Makoto.

"Right," Touma said, getting her explanation back on track. "And now that we've lost Chiaki's flashlight up there—"

She pointed up the gully with her thumb.

"—we don't even have a single flashlight among the three of us. Great work, guys."

"No we haven't!" Chiaki countered, loud out of habit. "Mako-chan has spare batter—Oh."

Touma had held up her flashlight, whose lightbulb was just as shattered as Makoto's. Chiaki suitably stopped talking.

"You didn't hear it break while we were falling? I dug it out from those bushes. Well, anyway, no flashlights for us."

Touma peered upward.

"Luckily, the moon is almost full, so we can somewhat see, but if we went under those trees, it wouldn't be enough to not get lost."

She fell silent, and again they stood there. Makoto scratched at something behind his ear and Chiaki tried to get some of the mud out of her hair, now that it was drier. Touma rearranged her jacket, tightening it against the cold.

"It's just like a closed room situation, isn't it?" said Touma, smiling grimly. "No way out. We're stuck. At least your flashlight up there should make it obvious where we are to anyone looking. It's probably even still working and on."

"There's no murdered body here, baka-yaro."

"We're not stuck, Touma."

Again they turned to look at him. He wasn't usually an active participant in these conversations.

"Down this mountain there's a farming village. If we head straight downhill, we should be able to reach it. We're on the east side, after all. That's the side we drove up. All we need to do is find someone's apple orchard—"

"Not a good idea," interrupted Chiaki. "We'll have to pass through those trees to get there. We won't be able to see at all! Think about what could happen!"

"Look," she continued. "The best thing to do when you get lost like this is to just hunker down and wait for them to come looking for us. They'll have to notice eventually. Until then, we just stay here, near that flashlight, and pay attention to anything that sounds like people approaching. I read this on the Internet."Touma snorted.

"That's not exactly reliable. I don't feel satisfied just standing around doing nothing. At least if we walked, it would help with the cold. And tell me, even if they found us here, how exactly would they pull us up?"

"We'd figure something out!" Chiaki insisted. "How were we going to get Mako-chan out of here?"

"We didn't even get a chance to think about it, thanks to you!"

"What did you just say?" Chiaki responded testily.

"Guys, come on—" Makoto tried to interject.

"We wouldn't even be here if it weren't for you!" Touma snapped at him.

Makoto recoiled at that.

"Hey, come on. That's not fair," said Chiaki. "It's not her fault."

"I know, I know. I'm sorry."

They avoided each others' gazes

"I think we should try walking downhill. It might be better for all of us. Burn off some energy," Chiaki conceded a while later, diplomatically.

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

Touma thought for a moment.

"Let's go then."

Makoto grimaced.

"Hold on, guys."

Again they looked at him.

"I'm sorry. I don't know how I forgot. My ankle...I don't think I can walk that far. Maybe we should just stay here."

He clutched his ankle as way of explanation. Touma and Chiaki glanced at each other.

"You really are a baka-yaro, aren't you? Come on, I'll help you walk."

He looked up, into Chiaki's eyes, which looked quite serious.

"Let me do it," Touma said. "I'm the strongest one here, so it's only natural."

Touma walked over and let him lean on her right shoulder, giving him the support he needed to walk without limping in pain. He tried to ignore the fact that what Touma said about her being stronger than him was entirely true.

They walked off into the trees.

* * *

"You sure you're okay? You said you couldn't walk earlier," asked Touma.

"Yeah, but I think it's better now," Makoto said, rubbing the foot in question. "I just sprained it falling and then getting landed on. I think it's alright now."

Touma thought about that.

"Alright, let's see it, then." Touma ordered, a moment later.

Makoto shifted away from Touma and shook his ankle, flexing it and suppressed a cringe. It still hurt, though not nearly as much as it had before.

_I guess it_ _was just a sprain after all._

Still, he would ordinarily rather have had some support, even now that they'd found a trail to follow after stumbling blindly through what felt like miles of trees and tangled brush. They only knew it went downhill, but it had to go _somewhere_.

The real reason he wanted to walk on his own was that he was feeling increasingly uncomfortable having his arm around Touma. She was entirely unselfconscious, but the same was not true for him.

He also felt bad about putting so much weight on her.

He took a few experimental steps forward, and found that by distributing his weight in a certain way, he could walk with only a little pain.

Touma nodded sagely.

"I guess you're okay. I was getting tired of carrying you anyway."

She flexed her shoulder.

"Geez, your arm is heavy," she said mildly, by way of final comment.

She flexed her shoulder.

In truth, they were all tired, but now that they had decided to walk, it was imperative they reach something other than more forest, so they couldn't afford to rest.

In front of them, the moonlight from the gap above them illuminated Chiaki, who was walking slowly onwards, not even pausing to look back.

"You'd think she could wait a little," commented Touma.

They hurried forward, Makoto dragging his foot just a little. They caught up with Chiaki rather quickly, and it was not long before she was the one lagging behind.

"Oy, Chiaki!" Touma yelled.

Chiaki looked up, startled, and shook her head to clear it.

"Oh, sorry."

She jogged forward.

"What's with you? This isn't like you." Touma asked.

"No, nothing," Chiaki said, waving off the question.

"Are you tired?" Touma asked. "We could…"

Touma gestured with her hand toward one of the trees.

"No, I'm just..."

She didn't finish the sentence. Watching her, Makoto realized that she had gone back into her trance, staring into the darkness. He lapsed into silence; it always disturbed him to see Chiaki like that.

"Come on, let's take a break," Touma insisted, shaking her lightly. "We'll have to sit against these trees, but it should be fine."

"I guess..." she consented.

They sat in the dirt around tree at the edge of the trail. Most of the mud had been shaken off their clothes, and the darkness hid how scruffy they looked.

Makoto scratched behind his ear. It wasn't summer, but something had decided to bite him anyway.

Instead he found water.

"Oh no. This is not happening," Touma said despairingly. "It is not starting to rain."

But of course, sniffing the air, she realized she had been smelling the rain in the air for a long time now.

Another droplet hit the hand she had stuck out to sample the air. Then several more. The branches above her started making tapping sounds.

"Well, f—"

Next to her, Chiaki mumbled something, cutting her short.

Touma turned to look at her. She was talking to herself, something Touma had never seen before.

"Did you say something, Chiaki? Are—are you okay?"

Again Chiaki seemed to stir from a trance.

"No, no I didn't. I didn't say anything at all."

She wore a strange expression, guilty yet at the same time very worried. She almost looked haunted by something

Makoto wanted to say something, but...

The rain was gone, Touma suddenly realized. Even the smell had vanished, as if it had been an illusion all along.

_I've never seen a winter storm just stop like that._

"At least it's not hot, right guys?" Makoto suddenly said, unable to bear the atmosphere.

"Not funny, Mako-chan," Touma responded, looking at him askance.

"Sorry," he apologized, after a moment.

…he didn't dare say too much.

"Mako-chan, you sound a little hoarse," Touma commented. "I'm just saying."

His voice, which he was finding he had to consciously elevate now, had slipped.

"Ah, thanks," he said, correcting the error.

"Look!" said Chiaki suddenly, pointing upwards.

They did, startled by her change in demeanor.

"I don't see anything, Chiaki. What are you pointing at?" asked Touma, peering upward at the trees.

"The stars," Chiaki said. "You can't see anything like it in the city. They're so bright. It…it reminds me of…"

She stopped talking, wearing a puzzled expression.

"I...I guess," Touma agreed insincerely, confused. "Yeah, they're really nice."

What was with Chiaki today? It was probably just the stress of being lost out here...

At her side, Makoto looked like he desperately wanted to say something, but didn't know what.

_Weren't there clouds in the sky just a moment ago? _Touma thought.

She looked back down at Chiaki, who was staring into the middle distance.

_She's searching for something, _Touma decided.

"The last time I did something like this," Chiaki said, trying again, "was…was when—Agh!"

A bright flashlight beam hit her between the eyes, startling them all, then moved to cover the other two.

"S—someone's here! Hey!" Touma jumped up and yelled. The other two followed suit immediately afterward.

A man walked over from the direction they had been going, having just rounded a turn. He wore a heavy hooded jacket, making it nigh-impossible to see his face in the darkness. He advanced on them silently, keeping the flashlight fixed on them.

Makoto clutched Touma's shoulder, and felt her tense up also. Was this guy really here to help them? What if—

"What are children like you doing out here at a time like this?" he intoned solemnly, interrupting any panicky thoughts they might be having.

"We—we got lost," answered Chiaki, not quite squeezing the shakiness out of her voice.

"We're trying to find our way down to one of the farms at the bottom of the hill," added Touma.

"Really?" The man asked, sounding almost skeptical. "I can see that you _are_ lost."

The tall man pulled off his hood so they could see him. The moonlight gave his features, peering down upon them, an eerie glow. Chiaki squinted to see him.

"You're nowhere near the bottom of the hill," he explained. "Very near the summit, actually."

"What? How is that possible? We've only been heading downhill—" started Makoto, but Chiaki put a hand out to stop him.

"It's very easy to get lost in this place," the man said, seeming to recite a speech out of memory. "Up seems down. Left seems right. I should know. It took me two days of non-stop hiking to figure this place out."

_Who are you?_ Touma wanted to ask, but held her tongue to avoid being rude.

"Anyway," the man continued. "You want to go down to the farms? I can show you—"

"Actually, we're from the mansion at the top of the hill," interrupted Chiaki. "We were only going downhill because we thought that way we'd know exactly where we'd be going. Or so we thought. If you know where it is, could you guide us?"

"You—you're from the mansion?" He sounded shocked.

"Yes," Chiaki confirmed, without elaboration. She tilted her head at his strange reaction.

_They're with Haruka!_ the man thought. _But that means these are her friends and—and one of them might even be one of her kids!_

They were far too old to be like the kids he imagined Haruka to have, but his mind was already hard at work, distorting reality to fit his preconceptions.

_This is my chance! If I save one of her kids—_

_He walked triumphantly into the atrium of the expansive mansion. Clinging to his legs were three small children, who shyly walked out from behind him. Surrounding him was a crowd of servants and wealthily-attired people. Hayami stared at him from the background but he pretended not to notice._

_Suddenly he saw Haruka, whose worried expression erupted in pure joy when she saw the children under his arms._

_"Haruka, I believe these are yours."_

_Both Haruka and the children ran forward, embracing midway on the floor that was so polished their images could be seen in it. In the background was the sound of a wooden stick hitting the ground._

_Haruka was wearing a sparkling red strapless dress that looked magnificent under the chandelier light._

_Finally, she got up and thanked him. They looked in each other's eyes..._

"Hey! HEY!"

The boy was shaking his arm.

"Ah!" he awoke with a start.

The kid jumped back.

"Ah, sorry. It's just that you weren't responding...and, uh..."

The boy wasn't looking at him.

"Please stop taking off your shirt!" yelled the girl clinging to the boy's shoulder.

"Oh yes, yeah. Of course."

He needed to stop doing that.

"I was just feeling a bit warm..."

"Kimochi Warui..." the one with the weird hair whispered to herself. He was used to it by now.

"Anyway, yes. I will lead you to the correct path."

Hayami was right, of course. He couldn't let himself be seen here. That would be improper. But she was wrong to say he couldn't follow after overhearing her talk about the trip. _Of course_ he had to follow and watch over Haruka. He had once flown to San Francisco to follow her. He would do whatever it took. It had been difficult escaping from Maki and Atsuko when they spotted him at the train station and tried to tackle him. It had been harrowing camping out here in the wilderness and getting lost. But it was always, always worth it.

They walked in silence, or so he assumed. He wasn't really paying attention to what they were saying.

Halfway there, they found a lit flashlight lying on the trail, which they explained was theirs.

_Good. I won't have to give them mine._

When they finally reached a point where the trail branched, he pointed them on the correct path, refused to give his name, and then walked down the other path, back to his tent.

Best to keep watching her from afar.

* * *

"Who the hell was that?" said Makoto.

"Who cares?" said Touma. "Best to be rid of him. He seems like a pervert."

"Well, we do owe him quite a bit for getting us back, and he seems so familiar..." said Chiaki.

Touma looked at her askance.

"You know someone like him?"

Chiaki looked surprised by the guilt by association Touma was implying.

"Uh, no," Chiaki said. "I must be mistaken..."

They kept chatting, but Makoto stopped listening, falling behind again.

So. Another experience was over.

He sighed.

As Mako-chan, he had discovered a side of Chiaki different than the one that always punched him, kicked him, and otherwise abused him. She was the one who had first stepped off to try and save him, however foolish that was. She was the one who defended him against Touma and offered to help him walk. She even invested effort, however misguided, to try and help him overcome his "shyness". In short, she was kind, in a way he had never seen as Makoto.

And somewhere under all of that was someone who hurt, someone who needed him. He wanted to believe that. He had reason to believe that.

He looked up.

"I'm sorry about being so weird today," Chiaki said, far ahead. "It's just been a long day…"

"No, it's okay," Touma said, shaking her head. "And I'm sorry for getting so mad all day."

Makoto shook his head and looked back down to return to his own thoughts.

It had only stoked the clumsy attraction he felt, the one that was constantly rejected by Chiaki's rejection and domineering attitude towards him. Kindness was, after all, what he wanted, the reason he had fallen into the crush with Haruka that put him into the shameful position he was in today.

It gave him hope.

Now that he finally had time to think, it bit into him again. What was it about Chiaki?

Haruka smiled at him, but it wasn't _for_ him. That was part of the problem, he had realized. But it wasn't all of it.

It was when she had stared up at the sky, looking briefly so sad. That was what got him.

And as he was painfully aware of, she was physically starting to resemble Haruka more and more.

He just wanted her to stop hating him.

The only way he had discovered was to become Mako-chan, but it was meaningless.

_That's right. She doesn't even know who I am._

* * *

Author's Note: My first attempt at a Hosaka fantasy. I don't think it's possible to do his fantasies justice, but I tried. I also considered having Maki "capture" Hosaka right after he left the three of them, but decided that having Maki stalk Hosaka that far to keep him away from Haruka was implausible, no matter how awesome it seemed. Note that I had no qualms about making Hosaka stalk Haruka that far. What a glorious bastard.


	2. Collision

_Update 2 (12/20/2010): More thematic consistency, and hopefully better descriptive work._

* * *

"Good Morning! Get up, sleepyhead! Today is another beautiful—"

_BAM!_

The alarm clock shut up.

Touma hated the thing. Another one of her brothers' inspired gifts to her, it oozed a level of saccharine cheer that was downright sacrilegious this early in the morning. It was also covered with the designs of a character from a certain magical girl manga she not only didn't read but actively detested. Not that her brothers would know something like that.

Regardless, it served its purpose, and she couldn't be bothered to replace it, so it stayed.

She sat up, and blearily surveyed her domain. As the only girl of the family, it had always been her prerogative to have her own room, though that had stopped mattering when they moved into the place they lived now, which had rooms for everyone. This was also the reason her brothers eschewed waking her in the morning, requiring her to have an alarm clock. Not that they would be as reliable as an alarm clock anyway.

She started to yawn, then stopped herself and punched the wall next to her, hard, in sheer frustration.

_Damn it, just when I had finally fallen asleep!_

She had spent most of the night tossing and turning, reading manga to try and get her eyes tired, browsing the internet—doing everything but successfully falling sleep. Every time she managed to doze off, she would remember what today was, and her eyes would snap open.

Definitely not a good way to start the day.

_Well, I'll get through today somehow_, she thought resignedly.

She sighed.

_I might as well stop putting it off._

Pushing herself out of her bed, she began to change, picking up the pieces of her school uniform from where they lay scattered around her room. She would do this quickly, like always, she thought. After all, linger too much, and the temptation of renewed sleep might be too much—even if doubted she would be able to fall asleep again.

After pulling off her pajama shirt, she paused briefly to consider the newest additions to her wardrobe. These bras, too, had technically been a gift from Natsuki, since he had paid for them. As the case was, however, it was Haruka who had stood behind him the entire time as he told Touma about the need to buy them. It was she who wore a grim look and shoved each time his voice trailed off or he left out some detail. It was also Haruka who had done the necessary measuring and helped her to pick out the designs she wanted, while Natsuki had gratefully fled to the video game section.

No credit to him for this gift, then.

She wondered, not for the first time, what it would have been like having an older sister, or a mother to look up to.

Whether she would have turned out different.

_Arrgh, whatever!_

She buttoned up her dress shirt a bit more aggressively than was necessary.

She had gifted her collection of oversized shirts to charity once there was no longer a Fujioka to hide her...assets from. Here again, it was Haruka who had dragged her through the paces of buying another set of shirts, this time because she had asked. It had been frustrating, because the tastes of Haruka, Chiaki, and Kana ran perpendicular to her own tastes, and heavily into pink.

_"Damn it, I'm not trying to look cute!"_ she remembered saying.

Haruka would be appalled at how she treated her new clothing, throwing them around her room and grabbing whatever was convenient, not bothering to keep them sorted or hung.

But of course, today was a school day; there was no decision-making involved. Well, almost none, but she had made that decision yesterday night.

She grabbed a pair of uniform pants off her desk.

Another story unto itself, she had bought them surreptitiously halfway through the school year, and began wearing them to class.

The uproar had been much less than she expected. Her homeroom instructor had backed her, as she expected. The principal had called the two in for a surprisingly cool argument in which the instructor pointed out that it was not technically against any of the vaguely-written rules. The administrators called in her guardians, but when Natsuki showed up the next day, the administrators involved quickly sensed he had no true control over the situation.

What finally sealed it was the soccer coach showing up, pointedly reminding everyone with not-so-subtle hints that the school's star forward was under discussion and should not be displeased, lest she choose to move to a different school that would be glad to take her.

Meanwhile, the ordinarily meddlesome student council remained uncharacteristically silent, due, she later learned, to Yoshino pulling strings in her favor.

Yoshino wasn't even on the council.

The fact Yoshino she already had that kind of power so soon after joining the school—well, Touma would remember to always stay on her good side. Supposedly, Yoshino was mulling making a play for student council president the next year, something Touma was sure she could do.

What she had really been hoping was that everyone would simply ignore it. She didn't want to make a fuss. Had they really pushed her, she would have given up.

Really, she just wanted to be able to wear pants on cold days. That was all.

Now, she wore what she chose and, since today was a probably going to be a little chilly, she was going to wear pants today.

She grabbed her backpack and strode out her bedroom door. Ordinarily, now would be the time to grab a quick snack—probably a bun—and eat it on the bus ride there. It was necessary to leave extremely early to travel across the city, thanks to Chiaki's ambitious proposal last year that they get into the "best school possible". Easy to say when you lived so much closer to the place, like she did.

Well, at least Touma didn't have to get up as early as Akira. She really felt sorry for him.

She paused at the top of the stairs, thinking of the extra care and effort she would have to take today.

Over the past week, she had carefully planned out what she would bring. She had carefully hand-wrote the letter yesterday afternoon and tucked it inside a specially-bought envelope. The chocolates were chilling in the fridge—though that would hardly matter given how long they would spend in her backpack. Most important, however, was the ultimate gift: a miniature hat and strap, the perfect size for a stuffed bear such as Fujioka. She had known it was perfect the moment she saw it in the store.

Okay, so Chiaki wasn't using that bear as much nowadays. Still. It would work.

She did wonder what prompted the change in behavior, though. Maybe Chiaki had finally gotten old enough.

_So much ceremony though_, she thought, walking down the stairs.

She knew it wasn't really necessary, that what were really important were the contents of the envelope. But if she were going to wear the pants in this relationship, she was going to play the part to the full. This, of course, was why she had chosen this day.

She hummed a little, packing the items carefully into her backpack.

"An impressive assortment, if I may say so," commented a voice from behind her, hard-edged.

She suppressed a surprised jump.

"Nat—Natsuki!" she exclaimed, standing up shakily. "What are you doing up?"

Natsuki looked down at her, eyes impassive, giving no hint whether or not he would respond. She found herself holding her breath.

"Well, that bastard Hosaka is going to be late again and wants me to cover for him," he said, finally. "So I have to get up early. And take a day off school."

She could tell Natsuki was annoyed by the prospect, but that wasn't the issue foremost on her mind.

"I—I see," she managed to respond, knowing Natsuki wouldn't allow the sidetopic to be sustained.

"Why the gifts?" he asked, true to form, giving his head the slightest of inclinations. "It's March, not February. You're not stupid enough to get those confused."

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully as she struggled to come up with an explanation. It was unusual for him to be so indirect with his questioning. What was he thinking about?

"Unless Ho-" he began."

"No!" she blurted out, surprised.

_Damn it, I shouldn't have talked!_

"T—This is just a gift from some idiot who got the date wrong, you know got it a couple days off," she improvised. "I'm giving it back today. Since I can't accept it, after all."

She chuckled nervously, and drily.

"I see," he said impassively.

Touma realized she was behaving uncharacteristically, barely getting a handle on the blush that was creeping up her cheeks.

Though she was proud of the date excuse. Strictly speaking, White Day was Sunday, which meant in practice that in schools, gift-giving was done on Friday; that is, today. If some "idiot" had really screwed up and done it on Thursday—well, it wouldn't even have been that egregious an error.

"What business is it of yours, anyway?" She demanded gruffly, having pulled herself together to give a more normal response, and turning away to hide her face.

"Indeed," Natsuki said. "You wouldn't think it to be. I'm surprised you even deigned to talk to me today."

"Well don't get used to it," she warned, straightening her back out defiantly, backpack in hand.

He made a sardonic expression.

"I won't."

Watching her walk out the door, Natsuki breathed a quiet sigh.

Things had gotten so much worse over the past year. Whereas he was sure there had been some residual familial warmth even as recently as last year, Touma now seemed to resent his very presence. It didn't help that he, short-tempered as he was, kept getting baited into snapping back at her.

He shook his head at himself.

At least they could still act cordially with Haruka around, so they weren't embarrassing the family.

He had a good idea of what Touma's behavior today indicated, and it disturbed him greatly. He still hoped he was wrong.

Suddenly, he slapped himself on the forehead in sudden realization.

Touma had forgotten both her breakfast—a bun that was still lying on the counter—and the lunch he had packed. And he had just let her walk out. She could buy something at school but...

_Ugh, I'm an idiot._

He prepared to chase her down.

* * *

It had taken a lot of time and thought, but she had made peace with herself.

She was attracted to other girls, and that was that. It was not worth denying or lying about to herself, no matter the social consequences. This was a progressive era, right? Supposedly.

Strangely enough, she had Fujioka to thank for all this. Had he never figured out the truth, she would have continued to maintain a lie, subsuming the things she wanted to do into a comfortable alter ego, playing the sort of absurd game Mako-chan was still trapped in, hiding from the truth.

That didn't mean she didn't still enjoy it. He had lived up to his promise to continue treating her as a boy and she, in turn, kept up the pretense. It was what they were used to and they enjoyed it. Plus, he was an excellent soccer trainer. If he was a bit more hesitant to get physical than he had been in the past...well that was understandable.

And she had Chiaki to thank for not throwing it all away. One of the many things she had to thank her for.

She regarded the carefully wrapped lunch she held in her lap, where it was relatively protected from the jostling of the bus. This line serviced a lot of students at this time of day, and she was surrounded by quite a few of her classmates.

Natsuki had run her down to deliver it to her, catching up to her just one block away from her house. He had taken the opportunity to scold her for being so careless. Uncharacteristically, she had let him finish his tirade without any snide comments.

She regretted now what she had done to their relationship. He cared, after all, and showed it all the time. Though perhaps that was the problem.

Her brothers had never really watched her very carefully, and had given her considerable freedom of movement. It was something she had enjoyed, until Natsuki had suddenly started watching her much more closely.

There was, of course, a positive side, in more regular gifts and well-intentioned, useless offers to help with her homework. However, the constant watching, the sudden attempts to make her go home earlier, the request that she stop acting so boyish, the brother who suddenly started attending her soccer games...it felt oppressive to her. It grated on her.

It was unfair and she knew it. What he did was only normal, and wasn't it what she had wanted all along? The way she felt oppressed was an artifact of how she was raised—though that likely _was_ his fault, partly.

It had taken the unusual tag team of Haruka and Fujioka to corner her and point out to her the problems with how she was behaving. Those two she would always listen to—and they were right.

So she was trying to be more considerate, but it was difficult. There was just so little trust left between them. Things had reached the point where the exchange of insults and biting remarks was habit to them both, and she found she generally couldn't ignore it when he said something to her, that she had to stand up for her pride as "a man." This, ironically, she had learned from Natsuki.

There was something else as well.

Natsuki's comments regarding her trips to the Minami household were starting to become darkly suspicious; he suspected, she was sure of it. She knew he would not approve. He was constantly paranoid that she was becoming too "boyish" and that he and the other brothers had "messed her up" somehow—she had heard him saying this when he thought wasn't listening. If he discovered what she was planning, he would blame himself, and then set out to "fix it."

That was the last thing she wanted.

There was also—

_No_, she decided, shaking her head. _It's only natural that I blame him a little, for that._

All of that—that was only one problem she would face. She had any others. First and foremost was the question that had kept her up all night:

Would Chiaki accept?

It was not a foregone conclusion, however much she wanted it to be. Frankly, she had no idea if Chiaki shared her...predilections.

She went over the evidence once more in her mind, knowing that, once again, it would fail to be convincing enough to alleviate her fear.

It seemed to make sense. They were extremely close, everyone thought so. Their degree of personal interaction and trust was extraordinary. They were even close enough that they had even shared a few experimental kisses.

It still made her heart flutter just to think about it.

That was the only reason she dared plan such a bold move.

Unfortunately for her soundness of mind, however, there was an official, relatively innocent explanation those kisses. Chiaki had planned them saying that they were just that—experimental—and knowing Chiaki, that could very well be true.

Fujioka had once said that such a thing couldn't possibly be the true explanation, and had explained to Touma that it was almost certainly a ploy.

But that was when he still believed Touma was boy. His explanation might be quite different now. She wanted badly to just ask him for advice but…she just wasn't ready to talk to him. Not about this.

If she was right, she had it all planned out. They wouldn't be obvious about it; she had heard too much about the ostracism they would receive, and she would put off Natsuki finding out for as long as possible. She would like to be open about it, but she was a pragmatist, and would go with what was safer, for Chiaki's sake.

She was even considering upgrading the lie she and Makoto had told his mother about them having a relationship to full-scale cover story. If so, then she would make sure it was what everyone at school would see and hear, and the speculation about her going home with Chiaki every day would dim if she started taking Makoto with her as well. People see what they expect to see.

For him, it would be a chance to do further damage control regarding his mother's discovery and strip him of his stated reason for being "Mako-chan". For her, it would be a shield against truthful rumors and perceptive observers. It would be the formalization of an alliance, killing multiple birds with one stone.

But if she were wrong...

If she were wrong, then she was ruining everything.

* * *

"If you don't hurry it up, you're going to miss the bus!"

"Yeah, yeah, I got it!"

Makoto had finally finished packing everything, and was putting on his shoes, doing a delicate dance wherein he was forced to keep some of his breakfast toast clamped in his mouth.

"Oh, one last thing, Mako-chan!" his mom said, sticking her head in to the hallway just as he freed his hands enough to eat in a dignified manner.

He cringed. He had no idea how that nickname had caught on with his parents, but it had. He had yet to contrive a way to talk them out of using it.

"Yeah?" he asked. "I'm in a hurry."

His mother made a slightly mischievous expression.

_Oh no_, he thought, realizing what it must mean.

"I saw what you were preparing," she said, enjoying the moment.

He closed his eyes, seeking inner calm.

"Is it for that girl?" she asked, pretending not to remember very well. "What's her name...Minami Touma, was it? It is White Day, you know."

_Damn. When did she see it? I thought I was being careful!_

"Uh, yes, sure, haha," he managed.

He gritted his teeth with the effort of keeping a straight face—or rather the correct marginally-embarrassed face that was called for in this situation. He had no idea if he was doing it successfully.

"Oh, how cute!" his mother added.

She seemed to buy it, anyway.

He fled out the door moments later.

True to form, he ran all the way to the bus stop, barely making it in time to see the bus start to drive up.

He hopped on board and sought out the seat next to Touma that she consistently saved for him. Today she sat in a forward-facing seat near the back door, right behind a suited salaryman. She was staring at her lunch box, wearing a dark expression. He wasn't sure what was going on but...

"Hi!"

He hoped his characteristic energy would improve her mood.

"Oh, hi," she responded, seemingly surprised even though they did this every day.

He sat down.

"It's not easy saving these seats for you, you know," she commented.

"I know. Well, thank you then!" he chimed.

It was a daily ritual for them, and she was following through even though it was apparent to him that her heart wasn't in it.

Typically, he would continue chattering relentlessly while she would occasionally respond in a blasé fashion. He knew that was what he _should_ do, to keep trying to improve her mood by osmosis, even though it didn't seem to be working so far.

But…

He fell quiet, his own mood collapsing suddenly. He wanted to ask Touma for advice, but he knew he couldn't, and he had been reminded what was keeping him so nervous.

His mood had oscillated wildly since the night before, ranging from irrationally exuberant to intensely quiet, even drawing some concerned stares from his mother. He couldn't help it; his stomach was full of butterflies, and the wild mood swings only helped to keep him sane.

He turned to look at Touma, and found her looking right back at him, eyes just as searching. They stared at each other, trying to read each other's thoughts.

_What's up with her today? Is something wrong?_ he thought.

_Why is he so quiet today? Is something wrong? _she thought.

* * *

Lunchtime.

Touma was not looking forward to this. Ever since she had conceived of this plan, every day that passed made both her more nervous, and lunchtime more awkward, until it became nigh unbearable.

Yesterday, she had been so obviously uncomfortable that Uchida had asked her if she was sick. She had blamed it on a sprain from soccer practice, but she knew she couldn't use that excuse again today. She would have to survive, somehow.

She swallowed.

Well, time to do this. If she dallied any longer, they would wonder what she was doing.

She bent down to open her bag and pull her lunch out. Taking one last deep breath, she set it on the table, using her other hand to immediately start zipping it back up, concealing its contents. This was why she was taking her lunch out ahead of time. She had to be careful about closing the bag again afterward, lest—

"Oh! Is that a White Day gift I see?" a voice next to her piped.

_Ack!_

"No! It's nothing!" Touma said, shoving the bag under the desk and turning to face her accuser.

"Come on, you can tell me!" the girl insisted. "Who is it for?"

The girl nudged her inquisitively, then bent sideways to look at the bag. Touma shifted to block her line of sight.

It was _her_, the self-proclaimed president of the Touma fan club, the club Touma was embarrassed even existed. Touma had thought she would be rid of it after matriculation, but it was now stronger than ever. Worse, _she_ had come here also. Even worse than that, she had joined the soccer team and turned out to be quite good.

On the soccer field, Touma found her fellow forward dependable and skilled. Off the field, her opinion of her was much less positive, but Touma could never say too much; she couldn't risk a break that could damage the team.

"This must be why you're taking the day off practice…" she mused.

She stood there for a moment, slowly developing a mischievous smile.

"Don't tell me!" shecontinued suddenly, turning on Touma. "Is it for me? I'm—I'm so pleased!"

She made a sharp grab for Touma's bag.

Touma snatched her bag away, her reflexes reacting just in time.

If this continued, Chiaki would be certain to notice something was happening and then—disaster.

"No! It's not for you!" Touma said.

Then she realized she had said too much.

"It's not even something like that!" she quickly amended. "Some guy put it in the wrong shoe locker, okay? I'm going to give it back to him later!"

The girl stood back up and looked down at her patronizingly.

"Oh that's all it is? I'm so disappointed!" she said, pouting.

She looked off into the far corner of the classroom.

"But, you know...ah…" she said hesitantly. "If—if you want...I—"

"I know all that already, geez! I'm not interested!" Touma interrupted, before she could say it.

_Is she being serious? _Touma thought. _Is she ever serious?_

"Touma! What's taking so long?" Uchida yelled at her from across the classroom.

"I'm coming!" Touma said, grabbing her bag and lunch in two hands, while jumping up awkwardly. "Hold your horses!"

This year, she had landed in the same class as Chiaki and Makoto. Unfortunately, Uchida and Yoshino had ended up in the next class down, which sucked, but at least they were in the same one.

These days, they alternated which classroom they ate in. Today they ate in this classroom.

"I see she's still bothering you," Yoshino commented, as Touma arrived.

"I know!" Touma said, sitting down next to Yoshino and placing her lunchbox on the impromptu four-desk arrangement. "She's so annoying! I mean, you'd think she could catch a hint by now."

For now, she had completely forgotten any fear or awkwardness.

"That's not the right attitude to have, Touma," Yoshino admonished, waving a reproachful finger. "That fan club of yours is a resource. You have to use it! If you won't do anything with it, then at least ask them to do stuff for me! Help me out a little."

"Geez, come on!" Touma said. "Not everyone is goddamn…er…"

Touma made vague hand gestures as she tried to remember.

"Nicholas Machiavelli!" she exclaimed, finally. "I remember! He was Italian!"

"It's not like you're even hinting," Uchida commented, talking through a pair of chopsticks in her mouth, and drawing the subject back to its original topic.

"What you do in situations like this," Chiaki said, pausing to put a piece of chicken in her mouth before continuing, mouth full, "is give them a good kick when they try to ask. It gets the point across quickly and easily."

"I—is that so?" Touma said, reminded by her words of everything all at once. She stared down at her food to avoid looking at Chiaki sitting across from her. Just like that, the nervousness had come back.

Uchida sighed, staring wistfully at Chiaki's food.

"I wish I could have lunches like that..." she said.

"Your mom makes perfectly fine lunches," Yoshino reprimanded. "And besides, if you had access to Haruka's cooking, you'd put on at least twenty pounds!"

"You're so mean!" Uchida said.

"Anyway, getting back on topic," Yoshino said, ignoring Uchida and leaning over to point her chopsticks at Chiaki. "It's not like things are always that easy. You can't just kick everyone who tries to approach you."

"Why not?" Chiaki said stubbornly. "It seems fine to me."

Chiaki continued blithely eating.

"Well, for one thing," Yoshino said, "You told Kana to kick Fujioka, and look at them now!"

Chiaki abruptly stopped trying to pick up her food, shifting her eyes to glare straight at Yoshino.

"That's obviously a special—"

"Hey, hey," interrupted Uchida, turning her head back from over her shoulder. "Speaking of this, have you guys noticed that Makoto keeps glancing over here with a weird look? I think he has something planned!"

"You're imagining things," Chiaki dismissed automatically, but glanced for just a moment in Touma's direction.

"No, no," said Uchida, waving her chopsticks around and wearing a "just-so" expression, "I think I'm right. Hey, Touma."

Touma, startled, looked up. She had been lost in her own thoughts.

Uchida spoke in the kind of loud whisper which not only fails to be quiet, but also signals to everyone to try and listen in.

"I think he's going to give you something today. You know, don't you? That's why you're so quiet today."

Touma felt her cheeks flare up. She was reacting far more strongly than she would ordinarily, and she knew it, but it was too late.

"Damn it, Uchida!" she complained, cheeks still red, striking the table with her fist, "I told you already that was a lie! And I still want to know how you heard about that!"

Chiaki watched the two of them with interest, still eating, but didn't say anything.

She didn't look like she believed Uchida at all, Touma thought gratefully.

"Hmm," Uchida said, looking at the ceiling with a thoughtful expression, and ignoring Touma. "I think pink would be a good color."

Touma stared at her as if she were daft.

"What?" she asked incredulously.

Uchida turned back to look at Touma with a faux-serious expression.

"For the bridesmaids' gowns. You are going to pick me as one, right?"

All Touma could manage was an aggravated, inchoate noise.

Uchida giggled.

"You're certainly one to talk," commented Yoshino, cutting her mirth off at the knees. "Who's the one who's already turned down two boys today? Hmm?"

Uchida looked at her with a betrayed expression.

"I told you not to tell them about that!"

Chiaki snapped closed the box on her lunch, the first to finish. The loud sound grabbed all their attention

Chiaki turned to look at Uchida.

"Well? Were either of them any good?" she asked.

It was a surprising question coming from her.

Uchida looked away, surprised and blushing a little.

"Well, one of them is pretty popular, but I just...it's too early, you know? Kana keeps saying to be careful about these kinds of things..."

Chiaki made a dismissive sound.

"Not like she's one to talk. Though I guess she's right."

"It's not like I even get a chance to think about it," Uchida added. "What with Yoshino here giving every one of them the stare of death."

Touma hadn't even touched her food.

* * *

When lunch was over, they got up to go back to their seats and respective classrooms, pausing to push the desks back into place.

Yoshino stopped Touma with a hand on her shoulder, before she could walk away.

"Is everything alright?" she asked, looking at her seriously. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Touma looked into Yoshino's dark, inquisitive eyes. This girl could not be lied to.

"...no, I'd rather not," Touma said, dipping her head to hide from those eyes. "Thanks for asking, though."

After a moment, Yoshino nodded, and headed back to her class.

* * *

After a few more periods of pretending to be unnaturally studious, the end of the day was finally here.

The reason she had put it off until now was silly, and maybe selfish. She had told herself that, if what she were doing were about to destroy her relationship with Chiaki forever, then she would at least allow herself one more normal day. Just once more, for old times' sake.

Given the exact nature of her plan, it helped that Chiaki didn't generally leave immediately at the bell, but hung around and chatted with the others. Touma, of course, wasn't expected to be there, since she had soccer practice to attend.

She was the only one with afterschool activities. Makoto and Uchida were neither engaged enough or bored enough to want to join anything. Chiaki just didn't tolerate idiots well, and for her, "idiots" seemed to encompass everyone not already in her immediate social circle.

Yoshino she wasn't sure about. With her goals, it seemed natural for her to join some club, yet she chose instead to walk home with Uchida and Chiaki every day.

_Well, let's leave speculation aside_, she thought, shoving aside the irrelevant thoughts she was using to distract herself.

She had taken the day off, citing unverifiable personal reasons. It wasn't game day, so being the star forward who had never before taken a day off, she could easily do so, though it caused worry among her teammates.

She glided down the hallway, navigating a path through the crowd with unerring precision and speed. It was a skill borne of countless hours spent avoiding defenders and goalies wielding a ball with her feet, but she didn't even notice she was doing it.

She had never understood why so many had stared at her when she first arrived here, nor ever noticed the few who still did.

She stopped in front of particular section of the school shoe lockers. She was here.

_So._

She let out a breath.

_No more putting it off._

She glanced around, trying not to be too obvious that she was checking for anyone looking in her direction.

There were plenty of people around the lockers, of course; it was the end of the day. However, if she acted natural and pretended like she was only grabbing her own shoes to go home, no one would notice what she was really doing.

Or that was what she told herself, anyway.

She set down her bag and pulled out the goods in one grab, carefully hiding it from sight between her arms.

Leaving a letter in someone's shoe locker was incredibly cliché, and she was time honestly not sure if anyone actually did so outside of manga. Still, it was a day to do cliché things. Again, so she had told herself.

That was also the excuse she had used to avoid talking with Chiaki in person.

As she raised her hand to the locker door, her hand shook. She felt a bead of sweat begin to form. She swallowed.

_That's no good, you're being too obvious. Everyone will notice. And you've got to be faster; she might already be on her way!_

She had had an elaborate arrangement of items in mind for the inside of the locker, but she completely forgot about it in the rush of getting it all in there as quickly as possible, not even daring to look around her.

When she finally stuffed everything inside, she was so relieved she almost missed the obvious. She just wanted to leave and await her fate.

Closing the metal door, though, she stopped.

Something was already inside, she realized, reviewing the image imprinted in her memory—and it wasn't just Chiaki's shoes.

She snapped it back opened and stared, no longer remembering to fake a cool demeanor.

Someone had beaten her to this. Right next to her hat, chocolates, and letter was another letter and a hair ribbon.

She stood rigidly still, shocked.

_There no need to get rid of it_, she thought, half-panicked, trying to calm herself down, _There's no way some random guy will win over me. After all, she'll see both—_

Wait.

She recognized the handwriting on the envelope.

* * *

She found him gathered with some of the other boys on a bench near the rear of the school, making an obvious—to her—effort not to seem unusually nervous and jumpy.

"You!" she exclaimed, walking up and grabbing his shoulder. "We need to talk."

The others stared at her, and, after an initial terrified jump, Makoto turned his head, with a strangely relieved expression.

"Yeah, sure," he said, smiling. "I'm glad to see you."

She took him to an isolated region of the school, near the gate but behind one of the buildings. There was an exit here too; a small door in the school wall that no one used. She didn't even know why it was there.

No one else was around to see the trees above budding into leaf and bloom. The school year was almost over; that's what they were saying.

The moment they rounded the corner, Makoto ran in front of her and turned to speak before she had a chance to say anything. His words came out in a jumbled rush, as if they had been building up for quite a while.

"So you found out, huh? How did you find out? It sounds crazy, but I'm so relieved! I've wanted to tell you for so long, but I couldn't think of how to do it. I wanted to ask—"

She grabbed him by the shoulders and gave him a serious stare.

"Wha—what is it?" he asked, confused.

"I found out because I saw the letter you put in her locker."

Makoto didn't know what to make of the intense look she was giving him. What was going on?

Disconcerted, he said the only thing he could think of:

"What were you doing in her locker?"

"Because I was putting one there too," she responded instantly, anticipating the question.

She watched it sink in, watched the turmoil and sudden understanding clarity in his eyes.

"But, wait," he said, eyes dancing around, looking at her, then away, then back again. "That—that doesn't—why would you—it'd only make sense if you—you're a…oh. Oh."

He understood with disturbing rapidity, but she couldn't afford to dwell on that.

"You begin to see the problem," she said, still staring at him, when she was sure he understood.

He didn't know what to say, and again gave vent to the first thought that came to mind:

"So the rumors are true…"

"That's not the issue here!" she said, annoyed.

He didn't say anything. She turned away. She was getting irrationally angry.

"So how long?" she asked, when she thought she had a handle on her emotions.

"How long what?" he asked automatically.

"You know what I mean!"

It was a long while before he started talking, quietly but quickly.

"Ever since I met her, I think. That thing with Haruka, I was—I didn't really understand what I wanted. I was stupid. It was always about Chiaki. But she always hits me and yells at me, and Haruka was always so nice…that was what got me, you know? I thought she hated me."

He paused for the briefest of moments, and took a breath.

"I kept trying to figure it out, and kept running into dead ends, but then I noticed she always treats _Mako-chan_ nicely, even though I don't do a thing differently when I'm her. And I thought, maybe it's something else. Maybe it's like, you know, what do you call it…it's from manga…when someone hits you even though—"

"Tsundere," Touma supplied. She had stood with her back to him the whole time.

"Yeah, and I wrote in the letter that she can kick me if she wants but—"

"Did you tell her about Mako-chan?" Touma asked, getting to what she thought was the point.

"No," he conceded, after a moment. "I—well how could I tell her about that at a moment like this?"

Touma looked at the trees, thinking about the irony that was spring.

"I wanted to ask you if you knew why Minami always treats me so badly." Makoto said, almost whispering, reaching his main point.

She turned around, reaching a sudden decision.

''I have no idea why she treats you like that," she said. "But I think I know how to deal with this.''

Makoto just looked at her, eyes showing torn emotions.

"It's so simple," she said. "We just wait and see who Chiaki rejects. That's what really matters, after all. We can't even make a decision without knowing that."

"I guess that seems fair," he responded lamely, after a moment.

Touma smiled crookedly.

"I don't rate your chances highly," she said. "After all, I visit her house every day. I'm practically her best friend, and we've even…well, never mind."

"You're forgetting something," he said, quietly, having finally turned the problem over a couple of times in his own mind.

"What?" she asked.

"You're a girl," he said, pausing. "And I am not, so there's the possibility that—"

The anger, which had been cooling, suddenly boiled over. She grabbed him by the collar.

"_What_ did you say? I cannot believe—"

"Just listen!" He said, trying not to choke, completely surprised by her reaction. "It's not about you. It's about her. She might not be into, well, girls. Have you considered that?"

Touma let go, overriding her initial reaction.

"Yes, of course. Of course," she said, regretful. "I'm sorry. I've thought of that. I'd just forgotten."

There was a long moment of silence.

"I wonder if we should just go home," Makoto said tentatively. "It can't be healthy to keep talking about this. I mean, I know we'd seem like cowards for leaving, but she surely must need time to think about it, and it seems like plenty of people—"

"You're crazy if you think that's a good idea," she commented. "You're losing your nerve."

"I just don't think—"

He suddenly snapped his gaze to something behind her.

"What—" she began, turning around.

Someone collided into her, turning her around and breaking her balance.

Touma stumbled back, but Makoto grabbed her to keep her from falling.

The person didn't stop, but kept going, continuing to run. She finally realized who it was.

"Chiaki!" she said instinctively, reaching out with her hand.

Chiaki stopped suddenly and turned her head, long hair whiplashing around her. In her hands were crumpled two envelopes.

Neither of them had ever seen that look. Her eyes were shot wide. It was a look of utter bewilderment, shock, and…fear?

"Minami, what—" Makoto began, horrified.

She turned and kept running.

"Chi—" Touma began again.

"Chiaki, wait!" someone interrupted from behind, "What is it? What's wro—"

This time Uchida crashed into her from behind, toppling them both over. Touma was only barely able to break their fall with her forearms. Yoshino arrived mere seconds later, but stopped at the spectacle before her.

They thus watched helplessly as Chiaki flung open the door and fled.


	3. Storm

_Author's note: After sacrificing a lot of time_—_ironically, anime-watching time_—_the chapter is done. Woot._

_Update 12/22/10: Thematic consistency, etc._

* * *

She had wanted to run all the way home.

That was what her feelings had demanded, after all.

It also seemed like a reasonable action to take, now that she was already stuck so far out. At this time of day there were plenty of pedestrians, especially other students, out on the streets. Many of them were her classmates, and would consequently recognize her.

Her disheveled appearance, lightly tear-stained cheeks, and inappropriate shoes had already attracted their fair share of attention. Stopping risked allowing someone to walk up and talk to her.

That was not what she wanted.

Unfortunately, reality had caught up with her. Her body couldn't take it anymore, no matter how much she pushed it. Her school was too far from her home, and she had never been that athletic.

The only mitigating factor was that she was now too far from the school for there to be many of her classmates around.

She ducked into a minimart she recognized, wet hair tangling itself around her neck, her lungs feeling like they were on the brink of collapse.

Leaning one arm onto the counter, she panted heavily, sweat dripping, waiting for her body to recover.

Well, she had worn herself out running, but at least now she could think rationally—somewhat.

She hadn't thought she had it in her, hadn't really considered the possibility that she was this vulnerable.

She played it all back in her mind…

_She walked to her shoe locker with Uchida and Yoshino, like she always did. On the way, they stopped next to Yoshino's locker so she could change shoes. It would be more efficient if they changed shoes separately, but they generally felt it more important to stick together and keep chatting._

_When Yoshino opened her locker, Uchida shoved her aside to look in._

_"What? Nothing?"_

_"I don't know why you're the one looking so disappointed," replied Yoshino archly. "If you must know, I found one in my desk this morning. I tossed it. Does that satisfy you?"_

_"WHAT? You didn't even show me..."_

_Uchida looked quite miffed._

_Uchida looked even more miffed when they reached her locker, which was only a couple of slots away from Chiaki's, and found nothing inside but shoes._

_"I told you already," Yoshino sighed. "No one leaves these things in shoe lockers anymore. It's too cliché."_

_"Says you!"_

They're just like an old married couple_, Chiaki thought, watching them descend into another round of bickering from the corner of her eyes._

_She opened her locker and, looking in, couldn't suppress a minor exclamation of surprise._

_The immediately broke off their bickering and came over to look._

_"See! I told you!" Uchida said._

_"Tch," Yoshino responded, annoyed. "Well, it's not too surprising. Chiaki's too intimidating to approach in person."_

_"And just what is that supposed to mean?" Chiaki asked rhetorically, glaring at Yoshino out of the corner of her eye, carefully shifting the hat and other assorted gifts from her locker to her bag._

_"Wait, you're not even going to read the letters first?" asked Uchida._

_"They've given me a gift and I'm going to take it. It's my right, after all. Besides, whoever these guys are, they have good taste. This ribbon matches a skirt I have. And I've always wanted a hat for_—_"_

_She froze. The world contracted around her as she lost all awareness of her surroundings. How could anyone know—_

_"Chiaki?" Yoshino asked, voice worried._

_She grabbed the envelopes from the locker and tore them both open in one swift, efficient motion. Her heart thundered in her ears._

_She didn't read them, not really. All she did was glance at the handwriting, which in retrospect she could have gotten off the envelopes, had she looked._

"Chiaki?"_ Yoshino asked, more insistently this time._

_"Hey, hey, what do they say?" asked Uchida, pulling at her arm and craning her head to try and read them, oblivious._

_"Chiaki!" Yoshino repeated, this time _very _worried._

_"I, I want to go_—_go home. I need to go home."_

_She repeated it like a mantra, crumpling the letters in her fist. She wasn't ready for this._

_"Chiaki, what are you saying?" Yoshino demanded, shaking her by the shoulders._

_"I'm sorry!"_

…and she had run off, desperately, without another word, barely remembering to take her bag with her.

She rubbed her feet. These indoor shoes weren't meant for running.

Turning now so that her back faced the counter, she looked at her open hand, the two sheets of parchment now wrinkled and sad-looking. She would have to read them more carefully later.

It wasn't normal to react this way, she knew. No one broke down just because a friend confessed their love. How—no, _why_ had it broken her?

Was she really that afraid—

"Hey, is someone out here?" asked the shopkeeper, emerging from the door behind the counter, rubbing her eyes.

Chiaki turned around hastily, stuffing the letters in a pocket in her skirt.

"Sorry, I was on the ph—" the shopkeeper's excuse was interrupted by a tremendous yawn. More likely, she had been sleeping on the job. They'd caught her at it plenty of times before.

It was then that Chiaki realized she had made a mistake.

The woman's eyes focused.

"Chiaki-chan! What brings—is something wrong? Why are you here? Have you been crying? What happened?"

"No, no, nothing's wrong," she said, backing away and waving her hands and hiding her face. "Nothing."

Of course, because they came here so often, the woman knew who she was, knew who Haruka was. It was a mistake of the first order—

"It's not nothing!" the woman insisted, leaning over the counter. "Look, it's alright! You don't to have to tell me now, just stay—hey, don't go! Come back!"

The woman watched helplessly as Chiaki fled down the street.

* * *

Before she entered the building she and her sisters called home, she ducked behind a tree and cleaned herself up a little. Wiped her face, rearranged her long, balky hair, and focused on acting normal, not like she had just finished running a marathon.

_Alright_, she thought, after a couple of minutes._ I think I'm okay._

Just to make sure, she set her bag down on the floor and dug through it for her small mirror, trying to ignore the gifts she knew were in there. She hadn't yet had occasion to use it, but it was a gift from Haruka, so it wouldn't do to just leave it at home. She wondered why Haruka had thought she would need one.

_Well, you're using it now, aren't you?_

She doubted this was what Haruka had had in mind, though.

She couldn't see anything out of sorts, so she put the mirror back in, zipped up the bag, and walked on, pausing to greet the doorman. The old man nodded amiably from his chair, just like she was sure he did to Fujioka, Touma, and everyone else who showed up here. He probably knew all their names by now.

She watched the elevator numbers silently, rummaging through her mind.

_I have to be rational. I can't just throw these away just because of what happened. It's a nice hat. Then again, what if she were to see me using it_—_argh, whatever! I'll use it regardless of what message it sends! The hair ribbon is in nice taste, but do I even wear those things? What, did he ask Fujioka for gift-buying advice or something? Wait, I don't even know who gave me what!_

She knew she was skirting the issue, avoiding the topic by magnifying her usual brusqueness.

It was a relief when the elevator doors opened.

_Anyway, I just need to get to my room safely, close the door, and not come out. I'm sure I'll be fine by dinnertime._

She took a deep breath, and turned the doorknob.

The television was on, which meant Kana was already home. That was unusual, but not unheard of. Just bad luck.

She gritted her teeth. No avoiding it, then.

She took off her shoes and set them aside. She had been wearing the wrong ones, of course, which one of them would notice soon enough. She would have no choice but to blame it on an implausible degree of absent-mindedness. Good thing she had more than one set of outdoor shoes.

She rubbed her sore feet. Hopefully this wouldn't last.

She took a deep breath.

"I'm home," she announced, walking by the living room.

"Oh! Welcome back!" responded Kana, looking up from where she lay under the kotatsu, cracker in mouth. "Haruka left a note on the table saying she'll be back soon. Wonder what she's doing…"

"I see…" Chiaki said, just a tad nervously, trying to hurry this conversation along by saying nothing meaningful.

"I wanted to bring Fujioka today," Kana added. "But he said he had to go somewhere. That guy…"

She couldn't act fully naturally, but, thankfully, Kana didn't seem to notice anything. She turned, and started to walk towards their room.

"Hold on a second," Kana said suddenly.

_No._

She turned to look at Kana from the corner of her eye.

"What—what is it?" she asked, knowingly that by acting so tentative, she was already failing the test.

Kana said nothing, just stared at her with probing eyes.

It had taken Chiaki far too long to learn to fear those eyes. There had been a time when she had believed Kana was too much of an idiot to see anything. She knew better now. Kana only pretended to see nothing, interested only in her manga or the bag of chips next to her, but in reality, she was the most perceptive person in the family.

Nowadays, she usually didn't even bother to hide the fact that she was staring at you.

"If you're going to waste my time, then I'm going to go change!" Chiaki said, pointing at their room and trying to escape by slowly edging backwards.

Kana just turned her head slightly sideways.

"Today is Friday. White Day is this Sunday. You're acting strange, which means—"

Kana lunged at Chiaki suddenly, pushing her back into the hallway, and grabbing something off of Chiaki.

"—that these papers jutting out of your pocket are love letters!"

_Shit! How did I forget about those?_

"Ack!" was all she managed to say out loud.

"I'm right, aren't I?" said Kana, cackling to herself. "Well, well, let's see what they say." She held them up to the light.

"Give those back!" She lunged back at Kana, reaching for the letters, which Kana held away from her in one hand while keeping Chiaki away with the other, taking advantage of her superior height. Chiaki was all too aware that she was blushing the whole time.

"It's only fair!" Kana said. "You read mine—"

The front door swung open.

"I'm home!" said Haruka, stepping in, speaking loudly. "I think it's—eh?"

This last part was of course directed at the two of them grappling in the hallway, though now they stood frozen.

* * *

Disaster.

Haruka made some tea so they could drink it around the kotatsu.

Each moment she spent in the kitchen dragged on agonizingly. Why couldn't she skip the tea, on today of all days?

Haruka sat down at the table, distributing the tea with practiced care.

"So you're finally old enough to start getting love letters, eh?" she said.

Haruka smiled, wearing an expression that conveyed the message "how adorable!" so she didn't have to say it explicitly. It was an expression Chiaki had previously only seen in connection to Fujioka and Kana.

Yet with all of that, Haruka had never once hinted at anyone in connection with herself. It made her feel guilty, how much Haruka had sacrificed for the two of them, and it was something Chiaki tried every day to make up for.

_What am I doing, thinking about that right now? _She thought to herself.

She looked up at the cause of her agony.

"It was inevitable," Kana commented, barely containing her mirth, eyes still scanning the letters she held in her hands. "Guys are suckers for her type. They seem to like girls that hit them all the time. Increases their ardor."

Chiaki was too stymied by her embarrassment to respond to this dig at her.

"That's the only explanation for this one, anyway. Makoto? I can't say I'm too surprised, but you beat up on him all the time. Is it true what he says here, that you've given him chocolates on Valentine's Day two years running?"

"That was because it was on the floor, and you told me to, baka-yaro! And anyway, this year I gave them to everyone…" Her eyes slid away from the eye contact.

''I don't know, I remember only seeing four sets…" Kana said, before looking at Chiaki and giving her a devilish smile.

"Makoto is a nice boy. So polite! I don't see why you're so down on him all the time," interjected Haruka.

Chiaki bit her lip.

"He even asks in this letter for you to be nicer to him," commented Kana.

"Can I have them back?" Chiaki asked, as calmly as she could manage. "I haven't even read them myself."

"You haven't?" Kana looked at her, surprises. She searched Chiaki's eyes carefully. Unaccountably, the mirth drained from her face. Chiaki blinked at Kana's strange reaction.

"Why not read them out loud? That way we can all hear it," Haruka suggested.

The blood shot up Chiaki's face. She loved Haruka, but she wished desperately not to have to hear it out loud, and was appalled that Haruka would suggest something like that.

Kana glanced at Haruka with an unreadable face and closed her eyes, seeming to think. The change in atmosphere was suddenly palpable, and Haruka seemed to realize something was wrong.

"No," Kana said finally. "I don't think that's necessary."

She slid the letters across the table to Chiaki, and stared into Haruka's eyes.

"I—I see…" Haruka said, suddenly subdued. Now she, too, wore an unreadable expression.

"Anyway, the real interesting letter is the second one," Kana said factually, without the gleeful enjoyment she had possessed earlier.

"As you can see, it's from Touma, and—" she continued.

"WHAT?" Haruka exclaimed, glancing through the letter in question, in a loud tone of voice that was inappropriate for the now-quiet atmosphere.

They watched her.

"I'm sorry," she said, a moment later. "I was just surprised."

She was clearly nowhere near done being surprised, however.

"Chiaki," Kana said, reluctantly, like someone stitching a wound. "Touma says here that you asked her, several times, to kiss you. Is this true?"

Haruka looked up, this time not even hiding her overwhelmed expression. Chiaki looked away.

"Yes…but I didn't mean anything by it!" she insisted. "I only wanted, you know, to…"

She found herself at a decided loss for words. She moved her mouth uselessly, trying to convince herself to speak.

Kana spoke up.

"Honestly I'd suspected something like that, ever since—Well, I didn't really think it was true since it seemed so strange. But that does sort of explain why Fujioka…"

Kana paused, then continued.

"What were you thinking?" she asked, dosing her words with a slight hint of incredulity.

It was a moment before Chiaki was able to stammer, her words coming out in a confused jumble.

"I didn't really—I mean, I never thought either of them would ever take it seriously. I guess I've never thought of them that way, well, okay, sometimes, but I never really considered…"

Chiaki's voice dropped off. She stared at her hands, not wanting to look up.

"Sometimes?" Haruka asked, latching onto the word. She seemed totally lost in the conversation.

"I guess I wasn't ready." Chiaki said, finally, barely audible.

The three of them sat there, looking down at the table, not saying anything. Haruka wanted to say something, to try to fill the guardian role that usually fit her so well, but was having to deal with too many revelations at once. Kana wore an expression similar to the one she wore when trying to decipher a particularly difficult math problem. Chiaki was still embarrassed, but now felt...ashamed, for a reason she couldn't place.

Finally, it was Kana who spoke, putting a hand on Chiaki's shoulder.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to put you through this, but I thought it was important that we discuss this. That Haruka know. But I'm sorry— "

The front door swung open, loudly.

"Ah, sorry for intruding!" exclaimed Fujioka, appearing in the entrance to the room, waving a camera. "White Day is approaching, so I figured I'd surprise you with— "

He stopped, having opened his eyes, looked around the room, and noticed everyone's expressions. They were staring at him exactly as if he were a Martian who had teleported into the room and asked to borrow a cup of sugar.

"What—what is it? Did I do something wrong?"

* * *

Fujioka's arrival ended all discussion between the three of them, despite his curiosity. Initial awkwardness quickly gave way to a comfortable settling into of old rhythms, of Chiaki sitting in front of Fujioka while they talked, Kana explaining the rationale for her latest pseudological scheme, and of Chiaki explaining for the umpteenth time why Kana is a baka-yaro.

Kana and Fujioka still behaved towards each other in the same way they had before that awkward day when Kana had come home, face red, and admitted what they had all known for so long.

She hadn't ever explained to Chiaki what had precipitated the decision, but Chiaki remembered that day, so similar to today, and so different.

That had been a much lighter discussion, full of joking comments. Haruka had even clapped, teasing Kana. That couldn't happen today.

For Fujioka and Kana, though, formalization had in practice changed very little. The only visible changes lay in the small things: faint blushing, light embarrassment, a newfound reluctance by Kana to shove or touch Fujioka. These were forgotten in seconds, lost in the enjoyment of passing time.

The only blemish on the evening was a careful request Chiaki worded to Haruka while they were washing the dishes, Fujioka and Kana in the other room watching TV.

"Haruka-nee-sama," she said. "About earlier…"

Haruka looked up, her hands pausing.

It might have been Chiaki's imagination, but it seemed that Haruka's hands were shaking, just a little.

"…yes?" Haruka responded, finally, warily.

"I'd rather you not mention this to Natsuki," Chiaki said, sorry because she knew how much Haruka hated discussions like this. "Keep this a secret, just for now. For Touma's sake."

Haruka seemed to think about it, then nodded once, tersely, her hair fluttering briefly around her neck.

"Alright."

* * *

Much later that night, Chiaki sat in front of the monitor in her pajamas, considering whether it was worth signing on to chat with Uchida, Yoshino, and…Touma. It would be expected, since it was a Friday night. But…how would she face them?

She could already see Uchida and Yoshino's worried messages, flashing insistently on the screen. She was surprised they hadn't already called, desperate to talk to her, or at least to her sisters.

They had probably spoken to Touma and Makoto, but at this point they were the least of her worries.

As for Touma, would she even be on? If so, what would Chiaki do? Ignore her?

Even Makoto would be there. Not someone she talked to frequently, but he would another nagging reminder, another reason that it would be far stress than it was worth.

In the end, it wasn't even a tough decision. She wasn't ready to face them.

She didn't have the motivation to do anything else, so she just walked back over and flopped back onto her bed. Might as well sleep early.

If only Haruka had consented for them to have their own TV, she mused wearily. At least then, she could mindlessly watch it for as long as she wanted, listen to the soothing pitchmen extol the quality of their knives, or some other mindless late night entertainment.

"Good evening!" Kana exclaimed, hurling aside the mechanical curtain that separated their beds. She held a hair brush in one hand

"What do you want?" Chiaki asked, hugging her pillow and staring at the wall.

Kana sat down, rocking Chiaki's bed and destroying any faint chance she had of sleeping. Kana's long hair tickled Chiaki's neck.

"Why so harsh? I just want to chat. You know, like we do all the time." Kana said, pouting.

_Not true_, Chiaki automatically thought, but of course Kana knew that.

Kana pulled her hair in front of her and began brushing it absent-mindedly

"We _are_ sisters, after all. Can't I do something nice once in a while? Not everything is a trick so I can eat you. You don't have to go running to Haruka."

She reached for Chiaki's hair, preparing to try and brush it.

"Go away."

Chiaki shifted away from her and tried to glue her eyes shut.

"You know," Kana continued, ignoring her, continuing to brush her own hair, speaking slowly and deliberately. "I was all set to get some good and decent revenge on you guys for the way you made fun of me on…that day. Can't a girl get a boyfriend without mockery from her sisters? And finally, here was my chance! I was going to get you good. And you just had to go and ruin it. I couldn't touch you. I noticed something, something I decided not to tell Haruka—"

Chiaki couldn't resist turning her head just a little.

"I noticed that your eyes were red and bloodshot. I don't see this often, but I _have_ seen it before. Now this is just a guess—"

At this point, Chiaki abandoned all pretense and turned back, trying to look Kana square in the face, only to find Kana looking at the ceiling.

"—you were crying, weren't you?"

At this point, she jerked her head back and looked Chiaki directly in the eyes, suddenly dead serious.

Chiaki looked away, at the bed.

"You noticed?" she asked rhetorically.

"A girl who is fine, who is coping well, and who should be left alone, doesn't cry just because a friend confesses their love to her," Kana said.

Chiaki said nothing.

"Anyway," Kana continued, jumping up, hair billowing out, tossing the hairbrush carelessly aside. "Now that I've got your attention, let's go to the living room. We can stay up. It's Friday, and it's more comfortable there. I'll even get you some of that soda you like so much, though I don't really think that's the best thing to be drinking in the middle of the night. Come on."

She reached a hand to Chiaki, making an insistent gesture.

Chiaki took it, and let herself be pulled up.

They migrated towards the living room, slipping quietly past Haruka's room; she was almost certainly asleep by now.

"I'll get us some drinks," said Kana, flipping the light switch and picking up a cup from the kotatsu, walking towards the kitchen.

Chiaki sat down, wondering she was about to undergo.

Kana returned, carrying a cup of water and an open can of soda, and setting them down appropriately. Upon sitting down, she immediately downed half her cup of water.

"Ah! This brings back memories," she began, setting the cup down.

"Of what?"

"The last time we did this. I read that entire forty-thousand character essay, you know. Every last character. Took me a while though."

Kana said this while pointing at Chiaki with the pinky of her hand holding the glass. Chiaki just watched her warily.

"I don't agree with you, though," Kana continued. "I see nothing wrong with looking like an idiot, as long as everyone is having fun. What does it matter how smart people think I am?"

Kana was acting strange, and her voice seemed slow.

"I don't buy that—" Chiaki began.

"Anyway!" Kana interrupted, jabbing her finger at Chiaki, who had reached for her can of soda. "You should really drop that soda habit. It can't be good for you. Drink milk or something."

To accentuate her point, she finished the rest of her water.

Chiaki ignored her, and started drinking her soda.

"Are you sure about that, Chiaki?" Kana asked rudely. "You'll never grow if you don't drink milk!"

Chiaki set her soda down.

"I'm growing perfectly fine, thank you very much!" she insisted.

Kana stared at her probingly, making it unmistakable where she was looking.

"Are you sure? That doesn't look 'fine' to me."

Chiaki turned away, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Whatever! You weren't any different at my age, and look at you now! I'll catch up."

Kana got up with her cup and walked towards the kitchen to get a refill.

"You keep telling yourself that," Kana said, pausing to wave her finger at Chiaki. "But I know I wouldn't be happy, always lagging behind Touma like that."

"Forget it! Why are we here anyway? What do you want to say to me?" Chiaki demanded, banging the table—quietly, so as not to wake Haruka.

Kana entered the kitchen and emerged a few moments later with a half-filled cup. Strange—Chiaki hadn't heard the faucet run.

"Not—not now," Kana said, waving a hand at her, before lying down on the floor and setting the cup on the table. It was already half-empty.

"Let's talk about other stuff first," Kana suggested.

"Like what?"

"Like Haruka."

Kana had her right hand spread and raised towards the ceiling, and stared at it carefully.

"Did you hear how flustered her chopping was today?" Kana continued. "Something's bothering her."

"Do I have to point it out?" Chiaki asked rhetorically, leaning over towards Kana. "It's obvious what's bothering her."

"No, not that. Something else. Something else is bothering her," Kana said.

She paused.

"You wouldn't see it," Kana continued, just as Chiaki started to think about it.

"Says you!" Chiaki shot back, annoyed by the insinuation. "I didn't sense anything!"

"You were too distracted," Kana said, matter-of-factly. "Besides, I'm the more perceptive person here when it comes to Haruka. We both know that. I've been around her longer."

"No you're not!" Chiaki insisted. "Take that back!"

She was angry at Kana's tone, rather than the factual content of her statement.

Kana rolled over onto her belly, staring out the glass doors leading to their balcony, which was dark now except for the light leaking out from the room.

"You know, Chiaki," she said, in a much softer tone, but voice steadily raising. "Haruka won't be around forever. It's already been almost a year since she graduated from high school. What's her future? I won't let it just be watching over the two of us forever!"

At this juncture, Kana clenched a fist and suddenly jumped up, turning to face Chiaki and thrusting her finger out at her yet again.

"All the same, are you ready for her to leave? Are you mentally prepared? I don't think you are!"

Chiaki stared at her for a moment.

"Are you alright, Kana? You're acting strange—"

"I'm fine!" Kana said, slicing her hand through the air decisively. "I brought you out here to talk, and that's what we're going to do, so I'm going to tell you a story!"

"A story?"

"Yes, a story! Just like the ones mom used to tell us—no, wait I guess you weren't here for that—well, anyway—"

She stumbled.

Kana had started walking around, and somehow managed to trip over her own feet, toppling in the direction of the kotatsu.

Chiaki watched it unfold in slow motion, Kana's balance failing, her arm barely starting to reach out, her hair pointing downward, following gravity away from her head—

Chiaki jumped up and ran forward, catching her just in time.

"Oh, Chiaki, thanks for catching me!"

Kana chuckled to herself, as if she had made a great joke.

It was then that Chiaki finally noticed that Kana didn't seem alright at all. Her eyes were only half-open and she didn't seem fully awake.

"Are—are you sure you're okay?" Chiaki asked, eyes sliding warily in the direction of Haruka's room, wondering if she should go wake Haruka up.

She moved her hand to Kana's forehead. Kana didn't seem to have a fever…

Kana shook her head, seeming to shake it off.

"I'm fine, I'm fine! Just a little sleepy. Let me sit down."

Now it was Chiaki who stood, cautiously watching Kana, who sat at the kotatsu.

"Sit, sit!" Kana insisted, waving a hand.

Chiaki sat.

"I always knew this day would come," Kana said to no one in particular, looking unsteady.

Chiaki just stared at Kana until she seemed to shake herself awake and focus.

"Anyway," Kana continued, leaning over shakily and pointing at Chiaki, "Listen to me carefully."

"There was once a girl. This girl was part of a, uh—family: a father, a mother, and an older sister. And everyone was happy. You know, like on TV. But one day, the mother died. Then the father died. Kind of ridiculous, right? It broke her heart."

"But when she was finally able to be happy again, she, uh, vowed that she would spend the rest of her life making sure everyone around her would be happy, and that everyone would always have fun. After all, how could anyone be sad if all everyone did was have f—fun? She swore she would never be sad again."

Her last few words came out a little mumbled. She shook her head and kept talking.

"And it worked. It made everyone happy, especially, her, uh, younger sister. And everything was good, even if the girl wasn't so sure anymore. She, uh, she—"

Kana paused again, but this time it didn't seem to be from haziness.

"Suddenly, one day, there was this boy who wanted to be friends with her. At first, she was delighted because she liked the boy. But then she started thinking about it, and the more she thought, the more scared she got. To make it worse, he resembled her—her dead father just a little bit. Just a tiny bit. Eventually, she got so scared of sadness that she didn't dare to accept. It wasn't safe to be friends with someone like that, but what if something terri—bad happened? So much more fun to just stay away."

Kana sucked in a breath.

"Because of this, the girl accepted any excuse, even the most illogical, to pretend the boy had never asked. But one day—"

She paused again, gathering strength.

"One day, she realized that all this pretending was doing nothing but making her sad, and making the boy sad as well. She realized she had made a horrible mistake. So she finally accepted. And that was that."

She looked at her half-filled cup of water, and grabbed it, drinking it in one go.

"Anyway, this girl had a little sister. This sister was only a baby when their parents died. Even so, she dearly missed them. But she tried to make up for it. She loved their older sister, and pretended she was their mother. She had friends, of course, but when they got too close, when she liked them too much, she started to think of them as part of her family. How could they be anything else? No one that close could be anything but family."

Kana looked up and pinned Chiaki with a look, but the force of the look rapidly receded from her eyes, and Kana went back to staring at the table.

"So she treated them like, like brothers. And it was risky, far too risky, to ever love anyone not in her real family, because her family might leave her. _All _of her family. Even if th—they loved her too, too many things might happen, just like they'd happened to everyone else. Better for everyone if none of that shit happened."

Chiaki was momentarily startled by the sudden expletive, but Kana kept talking.

"Already, she knows her older sister can't stay forever, and she would do anything to keep her as long as possible, but at least that—that, she knows is coming. But, for the others—for the others, she knows she doesn't have the heart to turn them down, the heart not to love them. But even so, she's being self—selfish, she tells herself, so with—"

A deep breath.

"—one hand she gives, and the other she takes away, fighting herself every step of the way. And the day—the day that—"

Kana stopped, closing her eyes, as if she were in pain, but managed to finish:

"If any of those brothers were to ever ask to be something else, to ask for love, force her to choose—it could only break her."

Suddenly Kana's head flopped down, barely being caught by her right hand. She seemed to be nursing a monster headache. She continued quietly, voice almost too slurred to be understood.

"But she's wrong, of course. Her family would never abandon her. _Never_. None of them. She's being sad for no reason."

Chiaki just looked at her, bewildered.

"And even if one of them did, you could take it. God, that sounded so much better in my head than out loud," Kana said after a long pause, looking up and smiling weakly. "But you get my point, right? Chiaki?"

Again Chiaki just stared at her.

"I—I do," she said.

And maybe she did, but something was wrong with Kana. That was the important thing right now.

"I'm going to get Haruka, okay?" Chiaki said, gently, reaching over. "You don't look—"

"I _told you_ I'm fi—"

Kana's arm buckled suddenly, and her head fell to the table.

"Kana?"

She didn't answer.

Chiaki got up and shook her by the shoulders.

"Kana!"

* * *

By the time Chiaki woke, the sun was up, but was no longer shining through the window.

_Really late_, she thought.

She lifted her head from the table blearily.

Haruka sat next to her.

"Good afternoon, Chiaki," she said amiably.

"Wh—what time is it?"

"Three o'clock, time for afternoon snacks. But you probably need more than that. Let me get you something."

Chiaki looked to her other side. After they had been unable and unwilling to move Kana last night, Chiaki had sat up and watched her until she, too, finally fell asleep.

Kana wasn't there anymore.

"Wait, Haruka-nee-sama!" she exclaimed. "Where's Kana? How is she?"

Kana stuck her head out of the kitchen.

"I'm over here," she said quietly.

She seemed subdued.

Haruka turned back to look at Chiaki.

"We figured out what it was. It—"

"That juice bottle with the enticing label," Kana interrupted. "The one that was all the way in the back of the fridge. It turns out that was _Hayami_'s gift juice."

After a moment, Chiaki understood.

"Ah," she said.

Kana rubbed her forehead with her hand.

"I can barely think with this headache," she lamented.

"That's why you don't open these kinds of things without asking me!" Haruka said, placing some food in the microwave.

"I apologized already!" Kana shot back, immediately cringing at the loudness of her own voice.

"Geez, it's not like I know what the stuff tastes like," she said a moment later, much more quietly. "Who's the one who didn't label it properly? You have to put warning stickers or something."

"Regardless, it's in the trash now," Haruka said. "There'll be no more of that in this household. And that Hayami, the next time I see her…"

Chiaki and Kana both instinctively flinched at Haruka's clenched fist and the expression she was making unconsciously.

"Huh?" Haruka said, glancing around at their reactions.

"Oh, sorry, that wasn't meant for you," Haruka said, a moment later.

"Anyway," Kana said, turning towards Chiaki. "I don't remember a thing. What were we doing out here yesterday, anyway?"

"Ah, well, you said you wanted to talk, and you started saying something about milk and you were chugging water like—that wasn't really water, was it?"

"Probably not," Kana said.

Her eyes narrowed.

"Did I say anything else? Did you—"

"You did. I understand. Trust me. I do," Chiaki insisted.

She did not want to go through all of that again.

"You do?" Kana asked rhetorically. "I—I see."

Kana seemed unsure of something.

"Oh, Chiaki, I'm sorry to ask you," Haruka said, interrupting the moment to set some food down in front of Chiaki. "But after you eat and get changed, do you mind going to the supermarket for me? I've been waiting for you to wake up."

Chiaki didn't have to think to know the answer.

"Oh, sure."

"Why not send me?" Kana asked. "Or I could go with her. I need to—"

"No, I need you here," Haruka retorted. "We need to continue your cooking lessons."

"Ugh," Kana said, clearly realizing her escape had been foiled. "Do I have to?"

"Kana! It's important for the future."

"It's not like Fujioka cares how I cook…" Kana said poutingly.

"It's not about Fujioka, and you know it!"

"Yes, yes, I get it already. It's too early to be cooking though, so if you want me I'll be in my room," Kana said, talking quickly so no one could interrupt.

She strode off, looking peeved.

Chiaki made a mental note to be careful which dishes she ate that night.

While Chiaki was on the way out, shopping list in hand, she remembered something to ask Haruka.

"Haruka-nee-sama, it's Saturday. Has Touma shown up yet?"

Haruka shook her head.

"I'm sorry, she hasn't."

* * *

She breathed in the spring air.

It was good getting out of the house, she supposed. Buying food was always calm and soothing. How could it not be? Well, as long as Kana or Uchida weren't around to make it pointlessly hectic.

Upon thinking of Uchida, she sucked in a deep breath.

No, she would deal with that later. For now, she would focus on nothing on nothing but the spring air, her warm jacket, and the shopping list in her pocket.

And that was what she did, strolling her way under the still-bare trees, carefully keeping her mind focused on the pleasant experience of walking, falling into the rhythm...

_Ah, I'm here_, she thought, looking up at the store sign, mildly surprised.

Entering the heated store, she immediately unbuttoned the top few buttons of her coat; no need to make herself sweat, after all.

She grabbed a basket and continued merrily on her way.

Best to buy them in whatever order was most convenient. Plus, she should buy lighter things first, since she would have to spend the whole time lugging around whatever she bought first.

_Hmm._

Then perhaps Haruka's cream puffs first?

No, frozen goods should come last.

Vegetables, then.

She greeted the prospect of onions and carrots with mixed feelings. On the one hand, she was trying to train herself to eat them, to feel the "love" in them that the curry fairy had talked about. On the other hand, it was still rough going. She was getting used to it—very, very slowly.

Well, better get to it.

She grabbed a clear plastic bag. Onions were at least relatively easy to select. Not too misshapen, hard, and not obviously rotten. Those were the only necessary criteria.

Spotting a likely candidate in the pile, she reached forward—

Another hand grabbed it before she could, rather rudely.

She looked up, her intuition already warning her.

_It's him!_

The curry fairy himself, holding an onion and studying it intently.

She had promised herself that the next she saw him, she would say something, ask him for advice about carrots, _something_.

She dug around hurriedly for something to say

"Er, excuse me—"

"No!" he exclaimed suddenly, turning around swiftly in dramatically wide arc, almost startling her into jumping and dropping her basket.

"This won't do!" he insisted. "It won't do at all! It's not good enough! For Minami Haruka, it has to be perfect!"

Already getting ready to overhear another of his fantastic monologues, Chiaki again almost dropped her basket.

_Ha_—_Haruka?_ Chiaki thought to herself.

"Excuse me," she repeated, more insistently. "Who are—"

The man sighed loudly.

"Why, why is it so hard to find the perfect ingredients? I will not accept anything less than perfect for Haruka. Ah, Haruka…"

He began to unbutton the top buttons of his shirt, exposing bare chest. Naturally repulsed, Chiaki started to back off.

_What the hell is he doing? Is he a pervert? What—_

Then it hit her.

"It's you!" she blurted out, thrusting her finger outward. "You're that man, the one we met in that forest!"

Suddenly, she realized that her outburst had inadvertently caused the patrons around her to look at her—and at what she was pointing at.

"Isn't he that chef from…" she heard one of them say.

Embarrassed, she pulled her finger back, hiding it in her other hand, trying not to look around.

Fortunately, the man had enough sense to notice, and immediately button up. He turned his head slightly to look at her.

"Hmm?" he began, glancing over her face skeptically, voice arrogant. "What could you be talking about? I don't know—"

Suddenly, his face, too, lit up with the shock of recognition, the shock transmitting itself into his voice.

"You—you couldn't be—Haruka's—"

Chiaki was already nodding.

"—daughter, would you?"

Chiaki almost tripped with surprise.

"Daughter?" she asked incredulously, recovering with surprising aplomb. "Are we talking about the same Haruka? She has no daughters. I'm her _sister_."

The man blinked at her as if she were insane. Chiaki reciprocated in kind.

"Sister?" he asked. "But Maki said—"

HIs eyes flew open wide, remembering back to exactly _what_ Maki had said.

He put his hand to his chin, making a gesture of understanding.

"I see. I see," he said, voice arrogant alone. "I have been a fool all along. I thought I knew but—I'm no papa. I'm a brother!"

"Excuse me?" Chiaki said, finding her voice now that she sensed a threat to Haruka.

"What are you talking about?" she demanded. "Do you have designs on Haruka? I warn you, I would never approve of someone disgusting like you for Haruka! Curry fairy or not! You pervert! No one becomes my brother without my express consent!"

She stopped, chilled by the semantic connection to what Kana had said last night.

Instead of responding, he bent down slightly, patting her on the head, ignoring her indignation, already lost in his own private world.

"Do not worry," he reassured. "I won't bother Minami Haruka. Not until everything is perfect. I would not dare approach her without all preparations complete."

He turned away and held a dramatic pose, hands on hips.

"Take my advice, little sister of mine! Love is not so simple! You must make sure everything is right and that you're ready! You can't just love anyone! You have to make sure it's the right choice!"

He started laughing maniacally.

That was too much for her.

"I already told you…I'm not your sister…" she said, backing away slowly, scanning for escape routes.

Suddenly, three employees emerged from the storage room entrance next to the potatoes, behind the man. One of them, who looked like a manager, tapped him on the shoulder. Another waved a broom menacingly.

"Again?" the man said, turning. "I thought—"

"Sir," the manager began officiously, swallowing slightly, clearly reciting a prepared speech. "We've received reports that you're disturbing our customers. Again. As you'll recall, this is not the first time. Specifically, this time, we've received reports that you're harassing a minor, made lewd comments, and…started stripping. This is a new level of perfidy, even for you!"

He glanced at Chiaki, who was doing her absolute best to appear completely uninvolved by staring intently at the onions. It didn't work.

"Polluting a pure girl like that!" he continued. "You are one of our most valued customers, but frankly, I am greatly disturbed by these reports. If there is any truth to this, I must ask you to immediately depart and—I regret this—never return again."

He looked at Chiaki for confirmation.

Chiaki looked around at the other patrons, and saw that they were all looking at her. She couldn't get out of this. She had to tell the truth.

"Actually," she said hesitantly, blushing even though she knew that was the last thing she should do. "He's not really a pervert, I don't think. Just very…strange. Maybe crazy."

"You see! This is another misunderstanding!" the crazy man in question interjected, making a visible effort to keep his voice down. "There is nothing wrong here! I know this girl! We were merely talking."

"He's done nothing wrong," Chiaki added, feeling a little sorry for her erstwhile mentor.

"Is that so?" the manager asked rhetorically, looking skeptical. "Well, please keep it down, then, and stop alarming the other customers. And I _will_ be watching you"—he stuck his finger in the man's face—"so don't try anything funny!"

The three of them trod away, glancing back suspiciously until they reentered the doorway.

The man sighed in relief after they left. Really, he would have to start being more careful.

But where was that girl—

When he turned to look, Chiaki had already fled precipitously for the meats section, basket on arm. The customers around him glared at him suspiciously, not exactly believing his innocence.

* * *

After Chiaki had finished hurrying through the rest of her list and escaped the store, she too heaved a sigh of relief, leaning on the store wall.

The curry fairy had been disappointing in more ways than one. It would be imperative for her to be on the lookout for him, and not let him get anywhere near Haruka.

Still, she had meant what she said. He was not a pervert, and didn't seem like a bad person; indeed, his previous advice about curry and carrots had been indispensible. He was just intolerably strange…and probably crazy.

Also, there that thing he had said, about love, that might be worth thinking about. It might once again be good advice. What had it been exactly—

"Hey, isn't that Chiaki?" Yoshino said, voice ringing out next to her, almost making her jump straight out of her shoes.

"It is!" Uchida responded. "Hey! Chiaki!"

Without pausing to think, or even to look back, Chiaki took off running; not very easy, considering the bags of food she was carrying.

"Hey! Wait!" Yoshino yelled.

"Chiaki!"

"Come back!"

Strangely enough, it was only then, running at half speed trying not to drop her bags, and hearing Uchida's voice fade into the distance, that she realized she had forgotten a crucial detail.

She had never even asked him his name.

* * *

Chiaki only barely stopped herself from opening the door before realizing what she was hearing.

Their voices were muffled, due to the fairly high quality of the sound-proofing of the building, but there was no mistaking it—Kana and Haruka were having a full-on yelling argument.

They argued all the time, of course. All three of them did. But it was never serious, never heated. Kana whined and needled at Haruka, who could always end it in a moment by putting her foot down hard—though she was no dictator, and rarely did so.

For it to have gotten this far meant that it was a topic on which Kana did not concede that Haruka had greater authority or knowledge—and that it was important enough that neither was willing to just drop it.

In fact, Chiaki couldn't remember the last time they had argued like this; well, except for vague memories from when she was very young. That hadn't been very fun at all, living with Takeru and his mother, and she didn't like thinking about it.

That they were arguing now was highly disturbing, and she doubted it was a coincidence.

All this flashed through her mind in the fraction of a second during which her hand froze over the doorknob.

Instead of announcing her return, then, she opened the door as quietly as she could, taking care that when she put her shoes on the rack—replacement shoes for the ones still stuck at her school—she made no clattering sound. She then pressed herself against the right wall, and listened, closing the door quietly and setting the food on the floor.

"—can't believe you're arguing something like this!"

Haruka's voice, as Chiaki had walked through the door.

"I can't believe _you_ would think something like that!" Kana yelled back.

"How could you even think about encouraging her like that?"

"Encourage? All I did was offer her support! You know, like we're supposed to!"

Chiaki tried to imagine their faces, listening to their disembodied voices.

"And I'd do it again, too!" Kana continued. "That is, if I actually said it, since I can't even remember. I don't know why I even brought this up! This is certainly the last time I tell _you _anything!"

"You're only supposed to support something if it's a good idea," Haruka growled. "This is certainly not! She's too young—"

"Too young? Sure, that might be a good argument, if you hadn't clapped and smiled when I first came home with a letter from Fujioka! I was only what, maybe half a year older than she is now—"

They must be talking about her, Chiaki realized.

"—and as I recall, it was all flowers and roses! It doesn't make any sense—I thought you would agree with me! You know how she is, her unnatural fixation on you and us, her paranoia, all that other stuff; you agreed with me that it was unhealthy! So I thought to myself, maybe a bit of puppy love would be good for her, help to ease her emotional dependence on the two of us. Maybe get her to smile more often. And if it took just a little push out the door—that's why I let it go, those times I noticed her and Touma! As long as we watch her carefully—"

"Do you have any idea how crazy you sound?" Haruka interrupted incredulously. "What kind of dangerous ground you're treading on?"

"Of course I do!" Kana said. "But it's worth the risk, as long as it makes her happier, breaks her out of all of this—"

"And if things go wrong? That's part of our job, too; warn her away from bad ideas!"

"You can't protect her from everything!" Kana argued. "And once again, you make no sense: if you really thought she was too young to have a relationship, then what about me and Fujioka? Weren't we too young also?"

"Alright, so I was wrong! Is that what you want to hear? You _were_ too young and I shouldn't have been so happy with it. I was younger then, too. But it worked out for the better, Fujioka is a nice boy—"

"And Makoto isn't? You've had plenty of chances to see the two of them. None of us even talked to Fujioka before that letter!"

"Nonetheless—"

"You're being disingenuous. I think I've figured it out now. Her age isn't the real issue here at all! Yesterday, you were nothing but smiles until you heard about Touma! Touma is a girl; there, I said it! The elephant in the room. You're just not comfortable with it!"

For the first time since Chiaki had got home, silence. Chiaki clung to the wall, far more tightly than she needed to. This entire situation—it was insane.

"Alright, fine, you got me," Haruka conceded. "I won't lie; I'm not comfortable with it. Of course I'm not! But if it were just that, I wouldn't say a thing! Not out loud. But you know it's not so easy! What will the neighbors say? What will her classmates say? What will the other family say? How will Chiaki react, the first time someone makes fun of her in the hallway? The first time some boys follow her home because of what she and Touma are? You know it could be worse than that! Far worse. And she's considering it; she's seriously considering it, like she's not even surprised! I never thought she—"

Haruka hesitated for just a moment.

"—would be the type of girl who would, but she is. We wouldn't be arguing if we didn't know that to be true."

"So not rejecting Touma out of hand is 'considering it'?"

"For this it is! Don't be 'disingenuous'."

"I didn't think you were so narrow-minded."

"Narrow-minded? If I were narrow-minded, I would be on the phone with Natsuki right now, plotting with him how best to lock them in their rooms!"

Haruka paused.

"I'm only considering reality," she continued. "You know that. Besides all the other issues, things like this rarely last more than a few months. How will she handle it, when it ends? Like last time? It didn't end well, as you'll recall. She's young, and before you interrupt, yes so were you! But you and she aren't the same. Despite all those weird games and tricks you played with Fujioka, you knew exactly what you were doing. You were ready; she isn't. Not at all! I was happy for her yesterday, yes, and I was wrong. I realized that, once I finally figured out what was going on."

Again Haruka paused to gather her thoughts.

"You yourself told me you think she was crying. And I know she was; I know someone who saw her. She isn't ready for this! I object just as strongly to Makoto as I do to Touma."

Another silence.

"So then what?" Kana asked, dangerously quiet. "You talk to her, and tell her you forbid it? Withdraw from her the very support I promised her she would always have? Make her worst fears come true? I doubt you have the guts."

"No, this is where you misunderstand me. I would never forbid it. I would just tell her why I think it's a bad idea. She's free to do what she likes. But we have to give her guidance. We can't just throw her out there and expect her to fend for herself, chasing after a happiness that might not even be there!"

"And that's just the same as forbidding it. But even so, if that's what you believe, then why haven't you talked to her? Why not yesterday?"

Chiaki hoped her heavy breathing wasn't giving her away, during this longest of pauses.

"…don't be like that, Kana," Haruka said, voice sad. "You know how I am with this. I can't…work up the courage to say anything."

Kana sighed.

"Then how about this?" she suggested. "We'll call this stalemate. We won't say a word to her, not until she makes a decision. If she decides to accept their feelings, either of them, then we can say what we think. And if she asks for advice first, then we will say everything. I expect she will anyway. That sound equitable?"

Again, there was a long pause.

"Yes," Haruka said carefully. Chiaki could imagine her nodding.

Haruka too sighed loudly, a moment later.

"I'm sorry about all this. You're right; I'm being overprotective of her. I always have, compared to you. It's just—"

"No, it's okay," Kana said. I understand. I'm sorry too. You're right, I'm being too reckless. I just thought that...that she would be happier this way. She seemed to be wavering, so I thought I should push her. But I've been so caught up in my vision of happiness for her that I didn't even consider the risk. I just…want what's best for her."

"So do I."

There was yet another long pause.

Suddenly Kana laughed, loudly and melodically.

"Kana, is something—are you okay?"

Kana barely got her laughter under control.

"It's just—we're arguing over something like this. I never thought I'd see the day. And at the end we compromise. We're not built for this."

"Let's just focus on being calm," Haruka said. "When Chiaki gets back, this conversation never happened, alright? And who cares what the neighbors must think."

"Yes, and I need a cup of water. My throat is killing me. I definitely remember why we stopped doing this."

_Shit_, Chiaki thought, concisely.

Hearing Kana approaching, she panicked, started to move—and tripped over a shoe on the floor.

She barely caught herself on the ground with her arm, knocking over one of the bags of food—just as Kana walked through the doorway, looking for the source of the crashing sound.

"Ow…" Chiaki said, giving up entirely on stealth.

"Chi—Chiaki?" Kana asked, sounding uncharacteristically nonplussed. "How long have you been there?"

"I heard most of it," Chiaki responded from a prone position on the floor, pushing herself up.

Inside the room, Haruka made a strangled noise.

"It—it's alright," Chiaki said, standing up. "That was just what I needed to hear. I'm…just glad you care so much."

"I—I didn't think you'd be so calm," Kana said, clearly surprised.

"Well, you underestimate me."

Chiaki focused all her energy on keeping her face calm, and suppressing the storm inside her. She hoped Kana wouldn't notice she was hiding her hands behind her back—and they were shaking.

They didn't think she was ready, and if she were honest to herself, she wasn't. But she would _make_ herself ready, show them that they didn't need to support her that much.

Whatever it took.

"Now let's hear that advice you guys were going to give," she said, with as much blasé as she could muster. "But this food is going to go bad if I keep leaving it out here."

"That—that's right," Haruka said, standing up, visibly shaken. "Especially the milk."

"Oh, and the fish!" Kana said.

Some semblance of normalcy at last.

* * *

That night, Chiaki once again sat in front of their computer, headphones on. She and Kana were obliged to share an old-fashioned desktop, while Haruka had her own laptop which she barely ever used. It seemed unfair, but Chiaki would never say so.

She sighed.

No, she didn't want to face Uchida and the others yet. Even in virtuality.

Maybe there were some videos worth watching…

Ah, there was a new episode uploaded in _that_ series. It was an idiotic series about a group of fifth graders, and perfectly suitable for baka-yaros, as she had vocally pointed out to Kana when she had first seen Kana watching it.

Thus, she would be absolutely mortified if Kana discovered that she had watched it out of morbid curiosity, been interested against her own better judgment and…well, now eagerly awaited each episode, watching it religiously whenever Kana was not present.

Actually, where was Kana anyway?

"Oh, Chiaki! What are you watching?" Kana asked from behind her.

_Gah!_

She instinctively hid the window, but foolishly didn't close it.

"Oh? What are you hiding over there?"

Chiaki could easily picture Kana behind her, fresh from the shower with towel on head, smiling deviously and rushing forward to grab her mouse.

She jerked her hand over, intending to close the window, but wasn't quite fast enough, Kana's hand grabbing hers and starting a minor tug of war over the mouse.

"Watching porn again, Chiaki?" Kana said mockingly, pursing her lips, bending over the screen. "Come on, show it to me. You don't have to hide it. I want to know your tastes."

"As if!" Chiaki retorted, thrusting her head rightward to try and hit Kana, who had already preemptively dodged, though she forgot about the towel on her head, which fell to the floor

"Hah! I'm not so easy to hit!" Kana said, bending down to pick it up.

Chiaki took the moment to close the window with some quick keyboard commands.

"Fine, if that's how you're going to be, I'm going to sleep," Kana huffed.

"Go ahead," Chiaki responded, going back to browsing the internet.

A while later, Chiaki got up, stretched tiredly, and headed for bed.

_Why is Kana's bed empty?_ She wondered as she passed it._ I didn't hear her get up…_

She circled the curtain that separated their two beds—and found Kana already there.

Kana opened her eyes and turned over.

"You take forever. Can't you sleep a little earlier?"

"I don't want to hear that from you, of all people. And what the hell are you doing here, baka-yaro?"

"I figured you'd have trouble sleeping," Kana said blearily. "So I figured I'd sleep with you."

Chiaki was about to protest, but decided against it. Once Kana got it in her head that she needed to start acting "like a sister", it was impossible to convince her it wasn't necessary.

Chiaki sighed.

"Well, move over then. You're taking too much space."

Kana didn't help. Chiaki still had trouble sleeping. And it certainly didn't help that Kana kicked at random intervals, muttered nonsense in her sleep, and hogged the blankets.

Well, at least it distracted her from her thoughts.

_I hope Fujioka knows what he's getting himself into._

* * *

When she trudged out of their room the next morning, she heard voices coming from the living room.

She knew who they were, but walked over to look anyway.

"—and then Touma said—" Yoshino was saying, before she turned her head to look at Chiaki.

"Hi, Chiaki!" Uchida said, smiling, waving unnecessarily.

The two of them were seated on one side of the kotatsu, cups of tea in front of them, apparently in conversation with Haruka and Kana.

"Hello," Chiaki responded, eyes narrowing, a bit more monotonically than usual. "Let me get changed, I'll be back."

When she returned, there was a plate of food on the table.

"Sorry, it's just Chiaki hasn't eaten breakfast yet, and I don't want her to go hungry," Haruka explained.

"Oh, it's alright, we don't mind," Yoshino said.

"Come on, Kana, let's go make lunch. Let's leave these three alone," Haruka said.

"What? But I wanted to— okay, yeah, let me get up."

Chiaki and her friends watched them leave.

"Haruka is pretty serious about this "teach Kana to cook" thing, huh?" Uchida commented.

"We already tried telling her it was insanity," Chiaki said matter-of-factly, swallowing some rice. "It didn't dissuade her."

"That reminds me," Uchida said, addressing herself to Yoshino. "I've always wondered why you didn't help teach Kana that one time she wanted to cook something for Haruka."

"I wasn't any good back then. You know that."

Yoshino started sipping her tea, but suddenly downed it in one go.

"You still have those goggles?" Chiaki asked, seemingly apropos of nothing.

"Of course I do."

Yoshino set down her cup and pushed it away, ignoring the teapot on the table, then leaned forward.

"You've been avoiding us. Why?"

_Damn. Straight to the point, huh?_

Chiaki looked off to the side.

"Do I even have to explain?"

"Of course you do. We're your friends; you've never failed to talk with us before! Not for anything important."

"Ha—have Makoto and Touma said anything?"

"They've told us, yes."

"Then it should be obvious!" Chiaki said, banging the table suddenly, then cringing at her own sharpness. "I—I mean, how could I—"

"It's not obvious!" Yoshino interrupted. "You—"

Uchida put her hand on Yoshino's shoulder to quiet her, then said:

"We're worried. Of course we are. We've never seen you like that! Even after we learned what happened, it still didn't make any sense."

Chiaki looked at Uchida as she talked, more careful than Chiaki had ever seen her.

"We wanted to call, but we didn't know if Haruka and Kana knew. We didn't want to…"

"We couldn't take it anymore!" Yoshino interjected. Do you know how worried we were? When we first found out what happened, we tore Touma and Makoto apart, do you know that? We had them on the verge of tears!"

Yoshino stopped for a moment.

"Can you imagine what they're going through?" she continued. "They're probably tearing their hair off. Is it even their fault? And then, yesterday, you just ran away from us!"

Chiaki visibly blanched.

Yoshino glanced around, visibly appalled at her own display of emotion.

"I—I'm sorry, it's just—" she amended, chastened.

"What's wrong, Chiaki? What's going on?" Uchida asked.

Chiaki glanced at the kitchen, wondering how much her sisters were hearing.

She shook her head silently, stubbornly. They didn't need to know.

Yoshino and Uchida glanced at each other.

"You've talked with your sisters, at least, right?" Yoshino asked. "I know they know what's going on, but do they know—"

Chiaki jerked her head into a nod.

Another glance between the two of them.

"Will you be okay?" Yoshino asked "That's what's important here."

Chiaki started to nod, then opened her mouth and said:

"Yes, I'll be fine. I'm okay, really."

She did her best to meet Yoshino's eyes.

The three of them looked at each other.

"Alright," Yoshino said, nodding.

The tension leaked out of the room.

"Is it alright to talk about it then?" Uchida began, leaning forward with sudden suppressed excitement. "I mean, if you're really okay."

"She's been holding herself back this whole time, as I'm sure you can imagine," Yoshino interjected, smiling slyly.

"Have not! Besides, it's only natural to want to, you know, talk—"

"You mean gossip," Yoshino pointed out.

"Yes, gossip! I mean, geez, Chiaki, what do you think about all this? I mean, if you don't want to—"

"I'm fine with it," Chiaki said, deliberately confident, and starting to eat her food again. "I need to think about this anyway. But first, what do _you_ guys think about it?"

They were momentarily nonplussed, and once again looked at each other for guidance.

Uchida glanced away from Yoshino briefly.

"Er, well, one thing I've wanted to ask" did Makoto say anything about Mako-chan?" She asked, finally, hesitant.

"What does Mako-chan have to do with anything?" Chiaki asked.

"Nothing, nothing at all," Uchida quickly responded, looking away.

Yoshino quietly sipped her tea, but raised a curious eyebrow.

"Anyway, I've always thought Makoto would do this someday," Uchida added. "I mean, it was obvious! You can't seriously tell me you were surprised—"

"Is that so? Then what was all that you were saying Friday about him and Touma?" Chiaki probed.

Uchida glanced up, obviously a little stumped by the question.

"Well, I was just having some fun with her. It was just something I'd heard, and it didn't seem totally implausible, so I mentioned it. You saw how she reacted! I thought I was onto something…"

"You were partly right, I guess," Yoshino conceded, leaning forward and setting her tea down again. "The real surprise for me here was Touma. I mean, it'd gotten obvious how things are between the two of you, but I never expected her to actually realize it and act upon it. I mean, it's not easy admitting to yourself that you're…nontraditionally inclined."

"You even said you were going to try and talk to her about it, if I remember right," Uchida added.

Yoshino glared at her warningly. Uchida covered her mouth, realizing the error.

"I guess the question here is," Yoshino continued, "What do you think? Are you accepting either of them? Can you even accept Touma's?"

Chiaki considered whether to respond.

_It's only fair I do so_, she thought. _They've stuck with me this far._

"Yes," she finally answered. "I could. Either of them. But the question is whether I _should_. Whether I want to."

From the kitchen, Haruka coughed loudly.

"I see," Yoshino said, looking at her with wide eyes, head tilted. "You don't know, do you?"

Chiaki shook her head.

The clock ticked away.

Yoshino seemed to reach a decision, closing her eyes momentarily.

"Well, whatever. Let's worry about something else for now. Uchida?"

She glanced at Uchida, and Uchida nodded seriously, pulling a folded sheet of paper out of her pocket, laying it out on the table.

Suddenly, looking down, her face broke out into a wholly unexpected smile.

"There's a new shopping center opening near where I live! They're having special discounts and I even have coupons! So I was thinking—"

"We figured we might want to take you, to take your mind off things," Yoshino interrupted.

"Correction: You're not _taking_ _me_. We're going_ together_," Chiaki insisted, standing, her plate finally empty.

"Sure, sure," Yoshino agreed. "Then you'll go?"

"As long as Uchida promises not to buy any more of these infernal horse-things."

Chiaki pointed at the horse with carrot in mouth figurine hanging off Uchida's bag near the door.

"I promise no such thing!" Uchida said, pouting.

The doorbell rang.

"Hmm?"

Chiaki started to turn.

Somehow Kana was already at the door.

"I told you you don't have to knock!" she said loudly.

"How am I supposed to know I'm not interrupting something again? What about what happened on Friday?" Fujioka's voice rang out.

"Let's just go," Chiaki said. "Before Kana notices and tries to follow us."

* * *

Haruka hummed to herself, checking her email.

_It's finally_—

"Haruka-nee-sama?"

Haruka hurriedly closed the browser.

"Oh, you're back!" she said, a little nervously, to Chiaki, who was leaning into the doorway of her room, one eye past the doorjamb.

"Do you have envelopes? And good letter parchment?" Chiaki asked, moving a little and agitating the bags full of whatever she had brought home from shopping.

"Ah, oh sure," Haruka responded, a little nervously. "Hold on, let me get it."

She rummaged through her desk drawers until she procured the desired items.

"Will this be enough?" she asked, holding out two envelopes and several sheets of parchment.

"Yes, thank you."

Chiaki walked away.

Haruka continued watching the doorway long after she was gone.

Well, they would find out soon enough.

* * *

_Author's note: If it seems implausible that Kana had no idea she was drinking alcohol, I can only submit that I, personally, have made that exact mistake. Not one of my better moments…_

_Speaking of which, however drunk she may be, her words are very meaningful…_


	4. Split Decision

Author's Note: Update 3/25/11: Revising this makes me realize that the person who told I rushed this chapter was absolutely right. Missing words, paragraphs that don't make sense…certain parts of this were barely intelligible. Hopefully that's all fixed now. Also, better thematic coherence, symbolism, and foreshadowing. Yay.

With this revised and complete, I can finally revise and publish chapter 2-3 of Breaking the Cycle. It takes a _lot_ of willpower not to develop Chiaki Haste and just leave my previous work behind, focusing only on the work to come. Spending the time to revise slows things down…but also makes sure I don't get anything that looks as hurried as this chapter used to be. (Point of this paragraph: I get to coin the phrase "Chiaki Haste".)

* * *

_Mako-chan spat the water out from her mouth._

I should really get that cavity fixed_, she thought to herself, placing her toothbrush and cup back in place._

_She shut the door to the medicine cabinet, raising her head._

Ah, let's fix my hair before I head out today_, she decided._

_She reached up to fix her hair into its customary spikes._

_"Hmm?" she questioned out loud, peering into the cabinet mirror in surprise._

_Why did it seem wrong? Her hair was long and straight, as normal. A bit tangled, yes, but otherwise—_

_She sucked in a breath._

No.

_She performed the most natural action for someone confronted with her position—she immediately groped for her chest with both hands, to confirm the reality of what she saw._

This—this can't be right! What's going on?

_"They're growing in quite well, aren't they, Mako-chan?"_

_She spun around to look at the owner of the voice._

_"M—mom!" he exclaimed, utterly at a loss as to how to explain was going on. How could he—_

_Her mom shook her head at her, then made a scolding expression._

_"I've told you so many times already. If you're going to spend forever in the bathroom getting ready, then get up earlier! And really, get your priorities straight! I know how you feel, but how many boys is prettier hair really going to net you, anyway?"_

_She started to splutter and protest, but was cut off when her mother grabbed her by the sleeve and yanked her out of the room._

_"Hurry up and get changed, or you're going to miss the bus again!" she insisted, pushing Mako-chan along the hallway back towards her room._

_Again she started to protest, before realizing things had changed._

_The scenery had morphed. She was no longer in her house, but in another familiar scene: the outside of the apartment building where the Minami sisters lived, next to the street, under some trees._

_"How could I possibly have a relationship with someone like you?" Chiaki was saying. "You're not even a boy!"_

_Understanding the situation instinctively, Mako-chan felt her heart tremble in despair._

_"But I, just give me a chance—"_

_She moved forward a step, but stopped abruptly, remembering the unreality of the situation. Without regard for decorum, his hands again shot up to his chest._

_"I'm sorry," Chiaki said firmly, turning away. "I can't accept your feelings."_

_Numbly, she just looked at Chiaki's back, with its long, long hair, absently continuing to grope at her own chest._

_"Let's go," Chiaki said, nodding to a distinctly male-looking Touma, who had appeared at her side like an apparition._

_"Wait!" he yelled, lurching forward. "Minami! Listen to me! This isn't right! Chiaki!—"_

"Chiaki—!"

He started to get up out of his bed, and almost smacked foreheads with his mother, who was leaning over him. Fortunately, she managed to back off just in time.

"How convenient," she commented drily. "Guess I won't have to drag you out of bed today. Hurry and get ready. I've let you sleep a little longer today, out of friendly courtesy."

She walked out, closing the door behind her, hurrying to get his breakfast plated.

He sighed, rubbing an eye with one hand.

_What's wrong with me?_

These dreams had plagued him, off and on, for months now, but had chosen to stalk him with particular fervor, these past few days.

He knew the answer, of course.

When his secret stash of female clothing had first been discovered, he had determined that it was time, once and for all, and to get rid of it. He had started preparing to give it all to Uchida, the only girl he knew who was the right size to wear them. This, despite his near-certainty that Uchida would throw it all out the moment he left the vicinity.

In the end, he couldn't do it. He just couldn't.

He told himself it was because he couldn't stand being once again banned from the Minami household.

That was what he told himself, anyway.

He had ended up giving them to Touma, for storage. Her brothers were apparently incapable of doing the necessary size comparison between some of the clothes in her laundry, and the person herself.

Akira, especially, should have recognized some of the clothing, but if he had ever noticed, he certainly never spoke about it.

_Speaking of that guy, I really should make the effort to talk to him…_

Though their situations weren't really the same.

He finished buttoning up the dress shirt of his uniform, and looked down, deeming himself satisfactory.

The dream yesterday had been the polar opposite of the dream today. Again he had been a girl, but it had made Chiaki accept him instead of rejecting him.

His subconscious was apparently very confused.

He didn't know what his parents thought. He had shut himself in his room over the weekend, leaving reluctantly only for meals. He didn't how he had managed to drag himself through his homework last night, lacking the helpful online guidance of Touma—who typically did the homework earlier with Chiaki.

He had plenty of motivation, however.

With a wistful sigh, he thought back to the beginning of the year, to the entrance exams, and Chiaki's admission that she cared enough about him to want him in the same school.

_That_ had set his heart racing, alright.

He had since worked long and hard to dispel his "idiot" aura, but she didn't seem to have noticed at all. Still, he kept trying.

Back then, she had said other things, about loneliness, and selfishness, that had made his heart throb. He wanted to protect her, and didn't know how.

With a start, he shook himself from his reverie.

There was no avoiding it anymore. It was Monday. He had to go out and face consequences.

It was already late, so he doubted he had the time to sit down and eat a proper breakfast and, true to form, his mother shoved a breakfast pastry into his hand as he walked past the kitchen, dragging his bag behind him.

"This wouldn't happen if you had more discipline in getting up in the morning."

"Yeah, yeah I got already," he asserted, talking around the pastry clamped in mouth as he slipped on his jacket, briefly reminded of his dream.

In fact, he couldn't remember his mother ever letting him sleep longer and skip eating a properly cooked breakfast. Why had she done so today?

"See you, mom," he said, finally ready, walking out the door.

"See you," she responded, waving amiably as he trod away.

She closed the door behind and turned to walk back to her bed—she didn't have any need to be up this early, other than to make sure Makoto didn't walk out the door without any pants or something like that.

He wasn't really that absent-minded, not usually, but today he hadn't even remembered his lunch. She wondered if he had noticed her slip it into his bag while he was putting on his jacket.

Probably not; he was too wrapped up in his own problems.

"Minami…Chiaki?" she mused out loud. "I thought her name was Minami _Touma_?"

* * *

"Hello," he said, sitting down next to Touma on the bus.

Her eyes were bloodshot, and he noted that she had elected not to wear the skirt today.

"Hello," she responded, ignoring him in favor of continuing to look out the window.

Neither of them said anything the rest of the trip.

* * *

The first part of the day flew by, but paradoxically also seemed to take forever.

He couldn't resist glancing over at Chiaki's desk every few minutes. Not once did he catch her looking back at him. Several times she coughed loudly, and she seemed decidedly out of sorts. Instead of paying attention, she openly attempted to sleep.

He had tried talking to her in morning, just before class started, but she had just waved her hand at him drearily, telling him to wait.

Well, she was talking to him, and wasn't trying to avoid him. That was a good sign, he supposed.

He saw Touma try the same thing, and receive the same treatment.

He hadn't really paid attention in class either.

When the tone finally sounded for lunch, he didn't get up immediately.

Earlier, he had mentally kicked himself, thinking he had forgotten his lunch, but found that he had somehow packed it anyway.

Instead of joining his friends in the corner of the room, he sat for a moment, wondering whether to try and ask again or just wait.

He turned his head to look across the room and was confronted instead by the sight of Touma's upper stomach. He recoiled slightly.

"So what do you think?" she asked.

He hadn't noticed Touma approach him.

"About what?" he asked automatically, craning his head upward.

"You know what I'm talking about."

He paused to consider the situation.

"We should probably be over there already."

He meant the other room, where Uchida and Yoshino were surely waiting for them.

Touma nodded.

"Yes, in the normal course of things, I should already be over there. In fact, there's no good reason why I'm not."

Makoto's neck started to feel tired. She was taller than him now, and he was in a seated position, compounding the disparity.

"But," she continued, "I'd feel more secure having you with me. Crazy, right?"

She smiled wanly.

He shook his head at her self-deprecation, looking downward.

"No, not really. Me too."

Touma watched the top of his head.

"We make horrible rivals," Touma commented, finally.

They simultaneously turned to look at Chiaki. She was collapsed on her desk in exhaustion, not moving.

"Is it just me, or does she seem a little—" Makoto began.

Chiaki sneezed loudly, briefly convulsing the desk she was sitting in. Makoto started to comment on that—

"What are they doing here?" Touma asked, looking to Chiaki's side.

She had noticed Yoshino and Uchida appear in the doorway. Makoto saw the two of them look at Chiaki with concern.

As they watched, the two of them conferred quietly with Chiaki. Makoto strained to hear what was being said, but couldn't quite catch it.

"She's sick," Touma said. "They're telling her she should go home."

"But that doesn't explain why they're here to start with. Don't you guys eat in their room today?"

Touma shrugged.

"I didn't hear everything they said."

Chiaki's chair scraped against the floor.

She got up slowly, picked up her bag and trudged towards the door in the front class. Uchida and Yoshino didn't follow.

When she got there, she turned and gestured to them to follow with a motion of one hand. She didn't meet their eyes.

They looked at each other, swallowed simultaneously, and did as instructed.

Seen up close in the unused hallway Chiaki had sought out, she looked a lot worse. Her eyes were even droopier than normal, and her movements were slow and methodical, as if each individual action took deliberate willpower.

Sniffing loudly, she rooted around in her bag and pulled out two sealed envelopes, handing them over wordlessly.

They watched her stooped figure for a long moment.

Touma stepped forward and placed her hand on Chiaki's forehead, her other hand on Chiaki's shoulder. Ruefully, Makoto wished he had the courage to do something like that.

"Shit, you're burning up!" Touma commented.

A moment of normal camaraderie, before she remembered the situation and jumped back, blushing.

"I know that, baka-yaro!" Chiaki snapped, pugnacious despite everything, before breaking down into a coughing fit.

Makoto and Touma glanced at each other.

Chiaki straightened herself out and cleared her throat, fist over mouth.

"I wanted to say something to each of you, but I wasn't sure if I had the courage."

She looked faintly embarrassed.

"I think I do, but I don't have the energy, so I'm going to take the easy way out, and let my letters do the talking. Excuse me for that."

She even did a little formal bow.

"Ah, well—" Makoto began, after a moment.

"That's not—" Touma said, simultaneously.

They stopped, having interrupted each other. They glanced at each other, trying to decide who would speak first, but Chiaki relieved them of that burden.

"Now if you'll excuse me," she said. "I'll—I'll be in the nurse's office lying down," Chiaki asserted shakily, turning for the exit.

"You sure you don't want us to take you home?" Touma asked.

She paused.

"At least take Uchi—" she began again.

Chiaki shook her head.

"I'm going to have Haruka come pick me up. You guys don't have to worry about it."

"Minami—" Makoto tried to protest.

Chiaki grabbed the two of them by opposite shoulders and pulled them forward with surprising strength, almost causing them to bump heads.

They looked at her with open surprise.

"One more thing, now that I remember it," she added. "I mean what I say in those letters. Every word of it. And the part where I ask you to come over after school: I'm not revoking it. I may be sick, but you guys better come!"

She made brief, serious eye contact with the two of them in turn, waiting for them to acknowledge that they understood, still holding their shoulders.

Then, nodding in satisfaction, she turned and walked away.

They watched her back as she staggered unsteadily away.

When she finally disappeared around the corner they reacted like sleepers waking from a dream, and hurriedly tore open their envelopes.

The careful diction and formal tone characteristic of Chiaki's writing washed over them as they read.

_Before I begin, I would like to apologize._

_You may have noticed that the two letters I am now writing are, in the vast majority, identical. This was not my original intention; I had resolved, before I started, to write two very dissimilar, individualized letters, and to give both the full attention they deserve._

_That is no longer going to happen, and for that I am sorry. My will, freshly buttressed by a soothing shopping trip, begins again to falter. Perhaps this ache and weariness is the sign of an oncoming cold; perhaps it is some deeper sickness._

_I ramble, I realize. These blank sheets, these two empty envelopes daunt me. I know that when I recopy these words, I will be struck with the urge to burn it all, and start anew. I must resist, and let my thoughts flow._

_Enough excuses._

_I have another apology to make._

_The way I have willfully kept my eyes shut the past year is inexcusable. It is reminiscent of a child, thinking that covering one's eyes will make the world go away. It does not go away, of course, and eventually forces itself to your attention. In the end, hiding yourself has availed you nothing, and has only delayed you the opportunity to explore the wonders of the world._

_Excuse the horrid analogy, but I hope I make myself clear._

_The truth is, I have always noticed._

_To Makoto: I notice the little flashes of pain every time I lash out at you. I notice the groping attempts to win my favor and I know precisely what I do when I shut them down. I notice the glimmers of pure joy when I drop even the smallest kind word, or when I give you supposedly meaningless chocolates that, of course, I give to few others. You never say so, but I know what you intuit, though you doubt your own perception enough that you disbelieve it. You are right. In truth, I have a weakness for exactly the types of idiots I profess to hate. Why else would I tolerate Uchida's company so easily? Perhaps it is Kana's influence._

_So I keep you as far as away as I can, without alienating you entirely. Yes, it is selfish. I wonder why you stay with me? I am sure I do not deserve it._

_To Touma: You hide it under a layer of cool, of pretending to be blunt and indifferent, but I sense it. I know it lies there, just under the surface, the quiet hunger. There are flashes of it, every time we play, every time we fight. A little more contact than necessary, hands that go a bit of askew of where they should. It is even in your eyes, in the strange looks you occasionally give me at such moments. I was never sure if you knew it yourself, so I tested your restraint, stretched it, and pushed it as far as it would go. It was selfish, and utterly unconscionable, but the truth is, I wanted to know too._

_Regardless, I have seen now the cliff where restraint ends and the abyss begins, and I have been taught where it leads._

_I knew all this, even executed half-rational actions based on my knowledge, but in the very act of knowing, forgot._

_Perhaps I am insane, but it is amazing the contortions the human mind can adopt when it wishes to hide from itself._

_I should explain why I did so much to hide from the truth._

_Romance, to me, was always something to fear, to keep away. I have seen, on TV and in the books I read, the damage it can do. It carries risks, of isolation and loss, and of dragging you away from those you value most._

_I already know what it is like, to lose; I do not wish to do so again. Though I remember little of it, my childhood was not a happy one. Perhaps Touma can sympathize._

_When the signs multiplied, when Fujioka inserted himself from nowhere, despite my initial efforts, when my acute perception—just as acute as Kana! Never let her convince you otherwise!—sensed the storm gathering, I buried my head in the sand and sought to make myself the eye of the storm. I clung to the moment as long as I could. Fujioka resembled father, after all! No reason he couldn't fit into the family unit. We can simply keep Touma as the little brother I christened her on the first day. Makoto can be the distant cousin I keep far away. It was nice, imagining the family I never had._

_I could have kept it up longer, much longer, had I simply not acted to lure you in, but it seems…I do not know what I want. Perhaps I simply cannot bear to be alone._

_Possibly, it runs in the family. Kana had a delusion similar to mine for a long while, but gave in to reality much more quickly, and on her own terms. She has acted more responsibly, I suppose, but she also does not have as much to deal with as I._

_To be honest, I still do not fully understand why it scares me so much to enter a new world—and yes, it does scare me. I must understand why._

_Kana is still right in what she said._

_Looking back over what I have written, I see that I have successfully delayed the central point of this letter until the very end, even if I was not very coherent in doing so. This procrastination is intentional._

_After Kana first upbraided me, I had thought it imperative that I make a decision. I agonized silently over it, unable to choose, working through the same mental logic over and over._

_Yes, there was no simple choice. I could find no easy reason to accept or reject either of you, not in brain or heart. I tried weighing levels of affinity, possible consequences, gut instinct, and found every measure atrociously balanced._

_I am determined at this point to handle this as maturely as possible, not only for my sake, but for the sake of everyone around me. I do not wish to destroy all we have because of this._

_I must apologize a final time._

_The truth is that, thinking through everything I have heard, and the advice I have received, I must ask you to accept my decision to…postpone my decision. I do not wish to lose what I have with either of you, something which seems inevitable no matter what I decide. I know that such a postponement would to you only extend a period of agony. It is completely selfish, and I ask that you forgive me. It seems…I still cannot handle the loss._

_Please do not let this destroy us. Do not hate each other for this and I beg you not to hate me. Tomorrow, when I give you this letter, I will feign strength to conceal weakness. Perhaps I may even have the courage to discard this letter and speak in words, though I doubt it._

_Though I do not know how I will face you after this, I ask you to please, please discard any misgivings and come to my house after school. At this point, I think only if we talk will I begin to know what to do._

_I will not let this destroy us. You must attend._

_If it helps, my sisters know nothing of what I have decided…yet._

_To you both, I—_

_No, never mind._

_With love,_

_Minami Chiaki_

They finished reading, Touma first, followed by Makoto, but continued to stand as still as statues.

Finally, Makoto finished absorbing the impact. His knees weakened and he felt himself begin to crumble, pieces breaking off the stone façade. Desperate for anything to delay the collapse, he turned to say something to Touma:

"I, that is—"

"Well, that was unexpected," Touma said suddenly, folding her letter in her hand briskly.

"Ah, yes it was," Makoto answered, surprised by her seeming blasé.

Touma turned to look out the window. Makoto realized that, despite the passiveness of her voice, she must be quite shaken; she did not normally avoid looking others in the face.

"It took me forever to dare to do it, you know," she said. "It took me so long to work up my courage. It took me so long to even understand what it is I wanted. You understand that, right? At least a little. Realize how hard it must have been for me."

She was holding the letter in front of her. Makoto couldn't see what she was doing with it.

"I—" he began, but she clearly wasn't really waiting for a response, since she kept right on talking.

"I had everything worked out. There was no way I could be wrong. I was certain I would be accepted. It made perfect sense. Even so, it took me so long."

"I, I see," Makoto responded, struggling to master his emotions, torn between what had just happened and what Touma was saying.

Touma's voice seemed higher than normal.

"I had everything planned out. Contingencies, counter-contingencies—I was even counting on your help. Everything was going to be perfect, or if not, I would _make_ it perfect. Things would work out, somehow."

This time, he said nothing, just listened to her breathing heavily.

"Why—why did you have to get involved?"

She turned, eyes full of tears and face full of anger, letter crushed in fist.

Makoto hadn't been prepared for the sound of her voice breaking, or for how much it hurt him to hear it.

Chiaki had told them not to hate each other, but it seemed they were on the brink of exactly that.

"WHY?" she demanded.

"I—" he began again.

He was completely unprepared for the impact that jerked his head back and sent him down to the floor, unprepared for the force of her fist ramming his face.

"WHY?" she demanded again.

"WHY? WHY, you ask?" he rebutted, springing back up, ignoring the pain and the blood suddenly running from his nose. His confused emotions had crystallized for the moment into a comforting knot of anger. "I did it because I loved her, more than you ever could, you confused, confused…aberration!"

He said this while ramming his elbow forward, already out of control. A more civilized part of him, knowing itself to be overpowered, protested fruitlessly that he shouldn't be using such force on a girl.

Touma dodged, but not fast enough to avoid a blow to the side of her head. She fell back and supported herself on the windowsill, blood running from a cut near her eye, which immediately began to swell.

They danced a clumsy dance, loudly dispatching careless, unplanned blows. Neither fought particularly effectively, or with anything other than force of anger, not even Touma, to whom precision and finesse should have been second nature.

"You speak to me of love and aberration? Who here plays dress up every other day and displays to the whole world his perverted urge to be the other gender? Certainly not me! Abomination indeed!"

This last was punctuated by a running punch, again to the head. Makoto was able to avoid it, but the momentum of her body colliding with his slammed them both into the opposing wall, knocking the breath out of his lungs.

Neither of them remembered or even cared that they were shouting each other's taboo secrets out at megaphone volume.

He shoved her off with excessive force, though not with enough to make her fall—this was not from lack of trying.

"Are you so sure about that?" he retorted. "What about Fujioka? Who's the one trying to be something she's not?"—he jumped into her and pinned her against a door, catching her fist in his hand—"Why do you care so much anyway? The pants, the attitude, the hair, even the voice; don't think we don't notice you faking it! Is that what it's all about? Proving to yourself you can do it? Win over a girl like Chiaki and you'll be finally be a boy! Is that it?"

He had said too much.

With a burst of strength, she shoved him off. He tumbled onto the floor.

That's right; she's stronger than me, part of him _registered_.

She dove onto him. He barely avoided an outthrust elbow to the face.

"What about you, huh?" she yelled in his face. "Feeling insecure about your manhood, dressing up in pink every weekend? That's the reason, isn't it? Win her over, and you can finally get Uchida to stop snickering at you, and your mother to stop worrying about you!"

He rammed his forehead into hers, but did it poorly, hurting himself as much as her.

They had just barely started grappling on the floor when a girl suddenly appeared over Touma's shoulder. Another distinct part of Makoto noted that he had a perfect view up her skirt. On most other occasions, he would have mused that he wasn't sure if he were blessed or cursed.

"What is this? A fight or a lover's tryst?" she queried, archly.

With that, she hauled Touma off of him adroitly, despite her efforts to resist, and armlocked her.

Energy spent, Makoto made a feeble effort to go after her, but found himself similarly hauled up by a girl with a familiar perfume.

"What the hell do you guys think you're doing?" Uchida yelled in his ear, painfully loud.

Where on earth had they come from?

Touma and Makoto looked at each other, panting heavily. Touma had a black eye and blood on her face, with a rip in her shirt near her shoulder. Makoto knew without looking that blood stained the front of his shirt, and that his pants had a tear somewhere. Having burned off his initial emotion, he was already regretting this. Her eyes told him that she was too.

It had all been a farce, a way to loudly shout away their anger.

"Please calm down," Yoshino added, from behind him, unnecessarily.

"What are you doing?" the girl holding Touma yelled. "You think Minami would want this?"

"What?" Touma asked, nonplussed, shocked by her knowledge.

"You think I don't notice," the girl hissed in her ear, "but I've always known. I knew before you did, and bore it, because I didn't want to be selfish! I don't recall getting angry, or punching anything!"

"It's not—" Touma tried to explain, but found herself under a continuing torrent of beratement and lecturing.

"Who _is_ that?" Makoto whispered to Uchida.

"A girl in her soccer team. She—agh, it's too hard to explain!"

At that moment, Makoto noticed that Uchida had her arms under his and her chest was pressed up against his back rather closely. A prurient, inappropriate thing to focus on at the moment, but, filled with adrenaline from the fight, he did.

He reacted only slightly, but she noticed.

"Ow!" he exclaimed, rubbing his head after she dropped him and smacked him on the back of his head.

"Pervert," she commented.

"Now's not the time for that, Uchida," Yoshino sighed, before turning at the sound of a new voice:

"Hey, what's going on over here?"

A tall boy appeared around the corner, flanked by two attendants.

_Student Council member_, Makoto mentally flagged.

Even Touma and the girl looked up from their conversation.

"Ah, excuse me," Yoshino said.

She walked over to the stern-looking boy, who acknowledged her presence by exchanging bows with her.

She whispered into his ear.

"You're right," he said, pressing a finger to his lips and tilting his head. "I _do_ owe you. I guess I never saw any of this."

Suddenly smiling, he turned and walked away, waving for the others to follow.

After a long moment lost in thought, Touma addressed Makoto.

"I think we can both agree this was a mistake," she said, adjusting her collar. "I didn't really mean any of that. I was a little…agitated. I think you were too. Can we forgive each other?"

She stuck out her hand.

"Of course!"

He shook it enthusiastically.

"Now then, instead of fighting, let's start a friendly competition," Touma continued, looking suddenly satisfied with herself.

"What do you mean?" Makoto asked, tilting his head in confusion.

"I'll act like a girl for a while," Touma began. "To prove that it's not just about…what you said. And in return…"

Makoto watched her warily, wondering where she was going with this. What crazy idea had she come up with?

"…in return, you have to tell Chiaki the truth about…certain things. You know what I speak of."

Uchida gasped involuntarily. Makoto blinked rapidly, processing what she had said.

"That hardly seems fair!" he exclaimed. "I mean, all you're doing is—"

"It's harder than it sounds!" Touma interjected. "I haven't acted…anything like that since I was seven!"

"But why—"

"Because I honestly think it will be good for both of us," she explained, making a series of "I've got a plan" gestures with her hands. "It'll settle some issues. We'll learn how just how authentic we are, how right we were about what we said."

Makoto looked at her carefully.

"If things go wrong, I promise to try and argue for you if Chiaki gets too angry," she continued. "Besides, you owe me big time for that thing with your mom."

_I wish the rest of them weren't here so I could talk more directly! _Touma thought.

"I honestly don't think she'll be mad for too long," she finished.

Makoto stared back at her, wondering at her motives, trying to digest the implications—

_Screw it._

He trusted her, and if she believed it made sense, then she was probably right.

"Fine then, but I'll only promise to try! I—I'm just not sure if I can really…just say it," Makoto responded, blushing slightly.

"I'll accept that," Touma said.

They shook hands again, then turned to face the others, who were watching them with unabashed interest.

"Let's get you guys cleaned up then," Uchida said, stepping forward. "I think your nose has finally stopped bleeding, Makoto."

"Ah," he put his hands to his nose.

"No, wait, wait," Touma waved her hands. "We can't go to the nurse's office. We can't. That's where Chiaki is. That's…"

Her voice trailed off.

"But then—how about one of the storage sheds?" Uchida suggested. "We can't just leave you guys looking like that! And do you have a backup shirt with you, Makoto?"

"I don't…"

As they walked off, Yoshino held the third girl back a little as they walked.

"Let's talk a little, later, after school," she suggested, meeting the girl's eyess.

"Ah, about what?"

"Later," Yoshino insisted.

The girl thought.

"Okay, I guess. But you'll have to make it fast. We have a game—oh I wonder if Touma can…Ah!"

The girl's eyes widened.

"She can't miss a critical game like this one! If she—I have to talk to her!"

The girl lurched forward.

"No, wait—" Yoshino began, reaching forward, but stopped midpose.

She had stepped on a piece of paper on the floor.

Yoshino bent down to pick it up. She would catch up with them soon enough. There was always time to peruse something as interesting-looking as this.

She glanced over it.

_Oh. That's what it is._

Yoshino pondered briefly whether to destroy it on the spot.

Instead she placed it in her carefully in her shirt pocket. Whichever one of them dropped it would surely want it back and, in the meantime…it wouldn't hurt to sneak a few peaks at it.

She hurried off to follow the others.

* * *

"Didn't Touma give Chiaki a schedule of games? How could she not know about today?" Yoshino asked, uncapping her bottle of water. "I mean, yeah, she's sick, but to not even know it was happening…"

"You know very well Chiaki doesn't care for soccer," Uchida sighed, shifting her legs underneath her, trying to redistribute her weight on the grass. "She probably forgot about it the moment she got it. There's no helping it. She just doesn't like athletics."

"I wonder why," Yoshino said, peering at the field. "Haruka is excellent and Kana—well, she's enthusiastic."

"She's probably just jealous," Makoto mumbled offhand.

"Hmm? You say something?"

"No, nothing."

They kept talking, but Makoto was too busy watching Touma on the field to notice. For all their comments about Chiaki, none of them had ever actually attended a game she played in. Yoshino and Uchida were generally too eager to go home or to Chiaki's house and as for him—well, it seemed a little strange going alone, so he never had.

Touma had been nagging Chiaki ever since she joined the school team to attend a game or at least a practice, just to show some support. Chiaki had always refused. It was the one thing they didn't see eye-to-eye on. Touma couldn't understand why she wouldn't, a fact she had complained to him about on several occasions. Makoto hadn't been able to enlighten her.

He hadn't understood why it was so important to Touma, either, and even the revelation of Touma's feelings for Chiaki had failed to fully clarify the issue for him.

Now though, he understood.

The First-year Sensation. The Southern Typhoon. An entire battery of questionable nicknames had accrued to Touma the soccer player, none of which had quite stuck yet. Her fame was such that the whole school knew about her— vaguely, because frankly middle school intramural soccer wasn't that important a topic.

But it certainly mattered to the team. Touma's "wing-girl" had practically begged her to play earlier that day, stroking her hand and reminding her how hard they'd worked, how much this match meant to them.

It was Yoshino, acting with typical adroitness, who had covertly used her phone to call Chiaki. She intervened at just the right moment, having Chiaki explain to Touma that, despite her previous admonitions, it was alright to be a couple of hours late, if it was for something as important as this.

It was also that wing-girl who had explained to them, as they left the storage shed, that Touma's arrival had transformed the school soccer program from a mediocre local team to a powerhouse with aspirations to the intramural crown. She told them that the coach had taken one look at her in practice and immediately promoted her to starter forward, and that the demoted third-year girl hadn't even complained, so obvious was the disparity. She told them that Touma was absolutely critical, that her absence on the field would have been a disaster.

Throughout it all, Touma had walked quietly, saying nothing, only nodding whenever Uchida asked incredulously if something was _really_ true.

To all of them, it was surprising news. Touma had never said anything about this to any of them. They had always thought of soccer as something Touma just _did_, in the same way that Uchida collected little stuffed horses and Yoshino devoted her time to learning to cook. None of them had ever thought to _ask_ her about it, or to investigate how well she was doing.

Watching her on the field now, he could see that it was no mere hyperbole.

Soccer is inherently a team sport; it is difficult for any one player to shine so brightly as to fully obscure the others. He knew this, but it was still apparent, even to him, just how valuable Touma was on the field. Time and again the ball was dumped to Touma, or the girl he now knew fully deserved her designation as Touma's partner in crime, and they would be relied upon to weave their way up the field for, if not a shot on goal, something close to it. It wasn't a particularly good strategy, but it was the best their team had.

It was strangely graceful, the way Touma moved on the field, weaving among obstacles, calves working as she tapped the ball back and forth, or sought out open spots in the defense, effortlessly outrunning and eluding defenders like so many traffic cones. Some combination of athleticism, years of practice, and natural instinct made her peerless among her limited competition. It was fascinating to watch.

The other girl, worshipful of Touma, had understated her own relative skill—she was clearly quite talented—but Touma was the star. Touma radiated command, directing the offense with occasional instructions that could somehow be heard from the other side of the field.

Receiving a pass, her partner smoothly performed an elaborate fake, losing a defender just long enough to shotgun a pass forward to Touma, who was already in the perfect position. She dodged left, then with sudden blistering speed blasted past two defenders. There was nothing left now but the goalie, and one good kick—

He watched her slip, in the kind of slow motion he hadn't been sure existed. Her right leg slid forward along the grass, not enough downward force to stop it. The studs on her cleats tried and failed to dig into the mud. Her other leg followed close behind. Her eyes opened wide with shock as she fell backwards, her elbows instinctively pushing outward to prepare for impact. For an improbable moment, the physics of her impact, the leverage from her failed right leg, turned her head, and he found himself staring right into her pupils. She stared right back.

Then she hit the ground, her head recoiled from the impact, and her eyes closed.

The goalie scooped up the ball, obviously relieved—then immediately looked ashamed.

He didn't realize he had been holding his breath until he finally exhaled.

A girl nearby sighed loudly.

"She's just not with it today," she said.

This came from a sizable contingent of girls some distance to his right, seated on the grass next to the field. Regulars, they had a drink cooler, a stacked pile of snacks, and a giant cloth to sit on. The fanclub was out in force, as they apparently always were.

Frankly, he was shocked.

_This kind of performance is "out of it"? _he thought, incredulously.

The action on the field stopped, and a crowd of team members gathered around Touma's position on the field.

"Oh no! Is she hurt?" Uchida asked.

Yoshino glanced at Makoto meaningfully.

After a long moment, Touma pushed herself up on her elbows, letting a teammate help pull her up. She held the back of her head, chuckling sheepishly in embarrassment, and signaled that she was fine. With obvious relief, the players moved back to their positions. The fan club cheered loudly.

She looked at him, and again they met eyes.

She walked slowly away from him, holding her side.

_Ah, rib pain. That was probably me_. He thought with a twinge.

"Do you see that?" one of her fans exclaimed. "She has a black eye! When did she get that? That's not a soccer injury."

_Definitely me._ He automatically turned away from them in embarrassment, even though there was no need to.

"That would explain a few things," another said. "Our representative was dropping hints at me about Touma being involved in something, but she wouldn't tell me anything!"

"Oh, that girl. Knowing her, it's probably total bullshit. She's just messing with you."

"But it certainly makes sense…"

"Tch. Fanclubs," Yoshino derided, leaning forward to get a better view.

Looking away from the field for a moment, Makoto spotted in the distance a few boys watching the game avidly. They wore a strange look, as if they were totally immersed in the game. He supposed they must be the boyfriends of some of those on the field.

Despite the many shots on goal, it was late in the first half before the first goal was scored. That came after a dexterous series of faked shots that finally manage to distract both defender and goalie. A brief cheer rang out and Touma grinned, having redeemed herself.

"I taught her that move, you know," said a voice behind them, announcing his presence for the first time.

Startled, he whipped his head around and flinched, colliding with Uchida, who promptly shoved him back.

"Fu—Fujioka?" he asked, surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"Makoto-kun, was it?" he asked, looking at him carefully. "Am I right?"

Makoto just nodded, mouth dry, instinctively starting to sweat.

"I should ask what _you're_ doing here," Fujioka responded. "I attend her games all the time. I've never seen any of you here before, though."

He sounded faintly accusing.

"We just thought we'd see what it was like," said Uchida amicably, ignoring the dig at them.

"I see," Fujioka said blandly.

Fujioka sat on the grass between Makoto and the others, and took a moment to watch the field.

"Quite something, isn't she?" he asked rhetorically.

"Ah, yes, she is," Makoto responded, eying him warily.

"I'm sure it's due to your training," Yoshino said, establishing friendly banter.

"No, no, I can only take some of the credit, at most," Fujioka responded modestly, waving his hand. "More important are the traits she has on her own. She's talented, she's hard-working, she's _special_."

He paused to formulate his next sentence.

"I mean, I'll be honest, I never thought I would ever meet someone so talented. It's like meeting a dream in person. It's a pleasure to teach her and—"

Fujioka stopped, realizing they were all looking at him and that he had gotten carried away. His face reddened.

"You have a girlfriend already, you know," Uchida pointed out dutifully.

"You know that's not what I meant!" he responded, now blushing furiously.

Uchida and Yoshino burst out laughing at his discomfiture.

Makoto grasped Fujioka's shoulder, pulling him over for a moment of male sympathy.

"Don't worry about them," he shared confidentially. "They're just making fun of you. They do it to me all the time."

"I know!" Fujioka said, still preoccupied with saving face.

Makoto shrugged at his unfriendliness, and resumed watching Touma play, but hadn't watched for more than few seconds before Fujioka again took his attention.

"Actually…" Fujioka began.

"Hmm?" Makoto asked distractedly, turning to look at Fujioka.

He found Fujioka scrutinizing him carefully, hand on chin.

"How exactly do you know me?"

"Isn't that obvious?" Makoto asked, looking at Fujioka, stumped. "We met at Minami's."

"No. We haven't," Fujioka insisted. "I'd remember meeting you. I only know you by reputation. I had to guess who you were based on Chiaki's description, but you knew me by sight, even though I'm alone. Have you seen me before?"

_Oh shit! I was too careless!_ Makoto thought, panicked.

"Well, you know, I guess I must have," he said. "I mean, maybe you just forgot…"

"And you look so familiar," Fujioka added. "But I'm certain I've never been introduced to you before."

"Then I—I'm sure we must have met…sometime…before…" Makoto began, struggling to think of a change to change the topic.

"Hey, Fujioka!" Uchida interrupted, coming to his rescue. "Did you bring Kana with you?"

Successfully distracted, Fujioka looked up for a moment.

"Well, I've never brought her here before, but this time she said she wanted to come. She insisted trying to find a shop to buy drinks and snacks from. That's the reason I'm late."

He paused.

"And I would have gotten here on time if she hadn't insisted on stopping to talk with Riko," he groused. "I mean I'm usually late anyway but—"

"You mean you let _her_ go buy drinks for _you_?" Yoshino berated. She and Uchida wore disapproving looks.

"Well, I mean, she wanted to, and she said that I should just go ahead—" Fujioka began, again nonplussed.

"Yo!" Kana yelled, appearing out of nowhere, holding out a bottle of iced tea and running across the distance that separated them. They watched her approach.

"All the places around this school are damn expensive," she said when she got there. "What are those bastards trying to do, ripping off girls like that?"

"Now, now I'm sure they're just—" Fujioka began, relieved at the interruption. More perceptive than usual, he stopped when he realized the others were staring at Kana.

The last time they had worn expressions like that was when Chiaki had mysteriously shown up to school one day with _two_ of those strange hair bumps on her head.

Kana's hand automatically went to her hair, which she was wearing untied and long. She had also committed the unusual conceit of placing one of the early-blooming flowers in her hair.

"I—I chose a different hairstyle today. Something wrong with that?"

She seemed strangely embarrassed, looking away while struggling to maintain her normal challenging voice.

"No, no, nothing. We're just surprised," Yoshino said, signaling the rest of them to drop the topic.

Makoto spent the rest of the first half listening with one ear to Fujioka rave about Touma and the work and dedication she was capable of. With the other ear he listened to Touma's cheering section urge her on and deride the opposition. With his eyes, he continued to watch Touma on the field.

Makoto thought about Touma's dedication to her chosen sport, and how she was willing to sacrifice something so important to her for Chiaki. _That_ was love. Could he honestly say he had the same dedication as her? If he couldn't, then he knew it would be unfair to Chiaki if he didn't give up now.

He knew that given the situation, the two of them should be at each other's throats. And they had been, earlier. That hadn't been real animosity though, on either side, and he knew that. They had too much history together, were far too good a pair of friends.

He knew, too, that something like that shouldn't be enough to hold them together. Human history, he was sure, was littered with examples of friends being torn apart by just something like this.

It was because of this that he could understand why, torn between two terribly equivalent choices, between two mirrored futures, Chiaki had opted instead for an impossible middle road. He could understand why she worried so much about destroying what they already had.

Like her, he had no idea how to proceed, what should be done, or how the situation would develop.

During the half-time break, Touma stopped by to greet them briefly, clutching a water bottle and a towel.

"You want a snack, Touma?" Uchida asked, granola bar outthrust in her hand. "It's from my lunch!"

"Ah, no, I'm fine," she demurred. "It's actually not a good idea for me to eat until after the match. It doesn't seem to work well."

"I see…" Uchida said disappointingly, withdrawing her offer.

"See, I told you!" Yoshino faux-whispered to Uchida, cupping her mouth with one side of her hand.

"Did not! You said she doesn't like granola!"

"She doesn't. She's just being polite."

"As if!"

"Good game, Touma," Fujioka said, drawing her attention away from the childish argument.

"I suppose," she responded, looking wary rather than modest.

"I meant to arrive earlier, but…" Fujioka shrugged and made a vague gesture with his hand. Kana glanced at him in annoyance, but then switched her focus to Touma. She seemed about to say something.

"You were late?" Touma repeated, sounding relieved. "Then that means you missed my embarrassing slip earlier."

"You slipped? In cleats?" Fujioka asked.

"Yeah."

"Well, it happens to the best of us. How exactly—"

Having been preoccupied by Uchida and Yoshino's shoving match, Fujioka only now turned his head upward to look at Touma's face. Squinting for a moment while still talking, he jumped up abruptly, interrupting himself.

"Touma! Your eye! What happened to it? Let me have a look at it."

From force of habit, Fujioka grabbed her head in both hands so as to get a better look, oblivious to changed circumstances—namely, that he now knew she was female, and not young enough to treat like such a child regardless.

"Fu—" Uchida began, thinking to point that out, but she was stopped by Yoshino's restraining hand.

"Nothing!" Touma said. "A ball hit me in the face! Let go!"

After a bit of squirming, she managed to get away.

"That's a fight injury!" Fujioka pointed out. "What happened?"

"Nothing! Okay? I—I don't want to talk about it."

Touma turned away.

"Touma. This is serious. You—"

Kana grabbed his shoulder, cued by Yoshino and Uchida, and he stopped.

"Let it go," she ordered. "Let her deal with it."

"But I'm—"

He stopped midsentence, seemingly flummoxed. Kana then leaned over to say something in his ear.

"Well, if they think they have it under control…" he said, agreeing reluctantly.

While Fujioka thought about it, Touma started subtly trying to escape by backing away.

"What are you going to do when you get home, though?" Fujioka asked suddenly, pinning her with a look. He didn't have to explain what he meant.

"Oh. Well, today I'm not eating at home, so I'm just going to go straight to my room and hide it."

"Should work…" Fujioka mused.

"Well, break isn't very long," Touma explained, "and I've already spent too much time here. I need to discuss things with my team…"

With that excuse, she turned to leave, her face broadcasting relief, but then she looked down, at the boy seated on the ground.

"Is something wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked quizzically.

She had finally noticed Makoto, who hadn't said a single word the entire time, instead quietly staring at her. With her other hand, she was absent-mindedly toweling sweat off her hair. It had drenched the top front and back of her team uniform.

"Ah!" he responded, snapping out of his trance and turning his head away. "No, nothing. Nothing is wrong."

"Uh-huh. Well, I guess we're going to have a lot of explaining to do," Touma said, being intentionally enigmatic—so enigmatic that Makoto didn't quite understand what she was trying to say.

He didn't ask her to clarify.

She strode back across the field, not seeming to notice the girl who had been surreptitiously watching the exchange from distance. The girl turned, and ran back to the fanclub section to spread what she had heard.

Makoto sighed. More grist for the rumor mill. Then he noticed that Kana was looking at him strangely, and that Yoshino was watching both of them.

This was too much. He felt like he was caught in the crossfire of some complicated chess match.

_Oh shit!_

He had been forced to borrow an ill-fitting replacement uniform shirt, and his pants still had a hole on the side. Not enough evidence for anyone but Sherlock Holmes to draw the correct conclusion…but Kana had shown evidence of such skills before. She couldn't be that perceptive…could she?

Touma was on the other side of the field in a team huddle, talking and gesturing animatedly. The coach stood to one side, nodding. Evidently, it was standard practice for the team to confer during half-time. Her coming over had been a gesture of courtesy.

"Look, Fujioka," Kana said suddenly, breaking the silence and grabbing his arm. "I know you're worried about her, but these two"—she gestured at Uchida at Yoshino—"says things are under control. I'm willing to take their word, and if Touma doesn't want to talk, you shouldn't force her. You're not really her—"

"I know, I know," he said, cutting her off. "It's just—"

"Anyway, all that being said," Kana continued briskly, turning to her right to address Yoshino and Uchida, instantly changing the mood. "I trust that I will soon hear the truth of the matter. I think I know some of it already, but I think it's best if I heard all of it."

"Ah, well," Yoshino hedged, rubbing her neck nervously, "Maybe, you know, sometime later, but not now."

Uchida glanced at Makoto, losing discipline momentarily, but quickly looked back.

"If you say so," Kana responded, clearly not surprised by the answer.

A whistle sounded, signaling the end of intermission.

* * *

"Oh, so you're going home with us?" Kana asked.

"Yes," Makoto answered, refusing to show how unusual this was for him—in male form anyway.

He and Touma chuckled nervously. Touma had changed back into her standard uniform, shoulder damage hidden under a jacket. It was five thirty, and cold enough to justify a coat. Despite the seemingly porous defense on both sides, their school had scraped out the 1-0 win.

"We already asked Haruka's permission," Touma added.

"And you guys also?" Kana asked, turning at a slight angle to face Yoshino, Uchida, and Touma's teammate, who was hanging around unaccountably.

"Yes," Yoshino answered briefly.

"_What?_" Makoto and Touma asked simultaneously, turning with shock. Makoto dropped the jacket zipper he was in the middle of zipping.

Yoshino looked at them.

"Why not? It's only natural. I thought you knew? I mean, you told us you were going to the Minami house after the game, and since we attended the game…"

_What's Yoshino playing at? She knows why we don't want them there. What is she doing? _Touma thought in frustration.

"Nice to meet you, Kana-san. I'm Yoshihiro Misawa. I trust I won't be intruding by going also?" said Touma's partner in their dynamic duo.

"Oh, no problem at all." Kana responded, sounding intrigued.

"_She_'s going also?" Touma asked Yoshino. Her voice and face could not have conveyed more dismay if she had been told all three of her brothers were attending.

Makoto, remembering the girl, Touma's fanclub president, rallying the troops to support her immediately after the game, felt a strong pang of sympathy.

"It didn't seem to make sense not to invite her," Yoshino said, looking deliberately puzzled. "I asked Chiaki for permission when I called her earlier. Haruka was the one who suggested it, also."

"B—but—"

"Chiaki is sick, Kana, have you heard?" Yoshino said, changing the subject and joining Kana, who was walking off. The two of them ignored the continued protests behind them.

"She is," Kana said, with genuine surprise and outrage. "I hadn't heard at all! I was wondering why she wasn't here. Damn it, why did Haruka give me a cell phone if she never intends to call me on it?"

Hands still raised in futile gestures, Touma and Makoto stood stock-still. After a long moment, they finally reacted, huddling to hold a private conference.

"How did we get railroaded into this? Why?" Touma whispered to him.

"How the hell should know? And Chiaki approved it, so…"

"You two," Kana interrupted.

Startled, they stared at her. For some reason, Kana had walked back, leaving Fujioka and Yoshino chatting with the others.

"This is the perfect opportunity to say this," she continued, giving them furious glares. "I saw you two back there. If you break Chiaki's heart, I _will_ kill you. Make no mistake. Now stop dawdling like idiots and hurry up."

Leaving them standing there gaping, Kana turned around and ran to catch up with the others.

"I—but—that—" he stuttered.

"What the hell was _that_?" Touma said, a bit more eloquently.

"I—I don't know. Shit, I don't _know_. What on earth is going on?"

"Let's just go," Touma said, after a moment of thought. "I don't think we're going to find out standing here."

They ran to catch up.

_This day _still_ isn't over? This is definitely the longest day of my life. _Makoto thought with dark humor.

* * *

By this point, they were all thoroughly familiar with the route to the Minami household. They navigated the short distance there with unthinking group intelligence, the streets dimming as the twilight crept in among the budding tree branches. They carried their bags with them on their backs and shoulders, books clattering occasionally. Not an unusual assortment of kids, notable only because they were out somewhat late on a Monday. They divided naturally into three parts, Yoshino, Misawa, and Uchida rushing ahead, Fujioka and Kana in the middle, and Touma and Makoto lagging far behind.

Only Misawa glanced up occasionally, mildly surprised when the group turned or when they found themselves caught on opposite sides of an intersection and needing to wait. Makoto could not shake the feeling that something was _off_.

After the events of the day, Makoto and Touma walked in silence, uniform in gait. There was nothing left to talk about; nothing relevant, anyway. Even so, Makoto repeatedly opened his mouth, ready to say something, anything, only to close it again on second thought. Touma noticed him do it, but didn't bail him out; couldn't, because she didn't know what to say either.

They crowded into the elevator, awkwardly, barely managing to all fit inside.

"Ah, sorry," Makoto apologized, recoiling after accidentally ramming his shoulder into Touma. She looked at him strangely.

At the back of the elevator despite being last in, Makoto found himself staring straight into Kana's long, luscious hair. Several times during the walk here he had seen Fujioka's hand reach for it automatically, only to twitch away spasmodically at the last moment. Makoto wondered if she noticed; he didn't think so.

Several times he had wondered what it would be like to have hair like that. Sure it would be heavy, but it must be fun to—

He shook his head, quietly appalled at himself. Touma's expression watching him only grew more questioning.

Since they had Kana with them, there was no need to knock on the door. They piled inside, the ones in front collectively giving the standard "sorry to intrude".

Here again, Makoto was last. He hesitated before stepping across the threshold.

Touma turned and looked back.

"You okay?"

Her eyes showed concern, and something else.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Kana hustled everyone else into the group into the room with the kotatsu, the one they treated as a de facto family room. When Touma moved to join them, however, Kana stopped her with an outstretched arm.

"The person you're looking for will be in her room, if she's really sick. Best go see her now."

Indeed, there was no sign of Chiaki in the front rooms.

"How did you know—" Makoto began.

Kana held up a hand to interrupt.

"Please. Give me some credit for having a brain," she said with a crooked smile.

Yoshino and Uchida, at the kotatsu, studiously pretended not to hear anything. Fujioka was pouring tea in the kitchen. Only Misawa looked up in frank curiosity.

"Where's Haruka?" Touma asked, clearly surprised Haruka hadn't come out to greet them.

Kana shrugged.

"I think she's out or something. It's strange, considering she left food on the stove. Actually, she's probably in the bathroom."

"I see."

The crooked smile returning, Kana said, quietly this time and leaning forward:

"You lucked out, Mako-chan. I didn't think you'd ever manage to escape her restrictions. But I wonder how long you'll be able to resist the urges."

Makoto blushed bright red.

"Wha—what are you talking about?" he said, looking away, realizing full well that his reaction admitted the truth.

_I can't believe I just admitted it to myself!_

Before he had time to crack, Kana laughed, loudly and melodically. Uchida and Yoshino looked up, and Fujioka paused, walking with tray of tea in hand.

Unable to talk from laughter, she just waved for them to walk on to Chiaki's bedroom.

"Don't let it get to you," Touma whispered to him as they walked. "She's just messing with you."

"I—I see."

"Kana!" Fujioka yelled from the kitchen. "What should I do? I think something's burning! Where's Haruka?"

"You idiot! Turn it off! Turn it off!"

Kana ran to the kitchen, followed closely by Yoshino.

They had paused in the hallway to witness that tableau.

"Where_ is_ Haruka?" Touma asked.

They could now see that neither bathroom showed any signs of anyone inside.

They heard muffled thumping sounds from inside the bedroom.

When they opened the door, they found Haruka sitting on the bed in front of them, leaning over Chiaki, doing her best to pin down the girl there. Dressed in nightclothes, Chiaki looked shockingly frail, and her determined but weak efforts to get up were ineffective against Haruka. Her feverish eyes darted from side to side, blazing in their sockets.

"Please, Chiaki! You can't get up! You're too sick! Let me go get them instead! I beg you—"

Chiaki's eyes focused on them, causing Haruka to look and turn as well.

Haruka smiled weakly at them and let go of Chiaki, sitting on the bed.

"She got worse all of a sudden. She was sleeping, but she suddenly started saying she needed to get up and dress. I told her she needed to stay asleep, but I couldn't convince her, and then she heard you guys arrive…"

The request was implicit in her words.

They stared at Chiaki in shock.

_She didn't sound anything like this on the phone!_ Touma thought.

Torn between two desires, they looked at each other for a long moment and decided with body language and nods.

"We can come back later," Touma said, casting her eyes down and turning to leave.

"She's right," she continued, addressing Chiaki. "For now it's important that you sleep and get some rest. It's not—"

"No!"

Finally responding, Chiaki had her arm outstretched in the universally recognized "come back!" gesture.

They turned back.

"Chiaki…" Makoto said quietly, involuntarily.

After a long silent moment, he realized his error.

"Minami! I mean Minami!" he amended hastily.

Looking around, he deduced from their surprised looks that they hadn't even noticed until he pointed it out. HIs cheeks colored.

Chiaki shook her head gently, with a light smile. She was seated on her pillow.

"That's not necessary. 'Chiaki' is fine."

Haruka touched Chiaki lightly on the arm, question again implicit.

"It's okay, Haruka. I'm feeling a little better. I think—I want to have dinner at the table. Just give me some time."

Haruka stood up, abruptly, decision made.

"We'll see about that. But I guess there's nothing wrong with letting them stay a little while. Not too long, alright guys?"

She gave them a meaningful look, filled with concealed threats of bodily harm. They nodded.

As she walked over, she leaned over and whispered so they could hear:

"I wanted to tell you all to stay home, since Chiaki was sick, but she wouldn't have it. She even wanted to invite the others. It's not like her to insist on something like that, especially since I do the cooking. I granted the wish, but I hope it's worth it. Please don't aggravate her."

With that, Haruka turned and briskly shut the door behind her.

They waited a moment. In the background, Kana expressed surprise at Haruka's reappearance. The phone rang.

Chiaki motioned for them to come over. They finally separated, Touma opting to go to her left and Makoto to her right.

"That's an interesting black eye you have, Touma."

"Ah, well, that was—"

"And is that a bruise on your knuckle?" She pointed at Makoto's right hand.

Surprised, Makoto raised his hand and made a fist. He hadn't even noticed that.

"Never mind," Chiaki said, leaning back into her extra pillows.

They waited.

Finally, to split the silence, Chiaki decided to just start talking, in the hopes it would lead somewhere.

"I don't know if I'm thinking straightly. This fever might have gotten to me. But I've had time to consider it. I don't think my letter was too coherent. What I mean is, if I were to choose, the odd one out would drift away. No matter how I try to deal with it, I can't think of any way either one of you wouldn't just…disappear from my life. I—I couldn't deal with that. You—you guys are my family and I couldn't—"

They had watched in muted horror as she lost her composure. Protective instincts stirring, Makoto reached forward and she grabbed him by the shirt, briefly, before letting go and sitting back, sniffling. It was unclear whether this was due to her sickness.

"No, no, I'm fine. I'm tired. This sickness is getting to me."

"I'm sorry," Touma said suddenly. "If I had known, I would never have…"

"I wouldn't have either," Makoto added, as an addendum, still lost in thought. "It wasn't—"

"No. Don't apologize," Chiaki interrupted, smiling wanly. "It's not your fault. It's my fault. I should have known better than to think things would stay the same forever. I should have known…"

Makoto futilely grasped for something to say. Here it was again. The vague sensation that something was wrong—no, it was obvious that something was wrong—and he had no idea how to deal with it. It hurt.

"It would be unfair for me to ask you to wait indefinitely," she continued. "And I can't lie and refuse you both. But then I can't—I can't… I just need more time!"

With this last outburst, she again fell back, seemingly exhausted.

"Chiaki!" they both exclaimed, within moments of each other.

"Kana was right all along," Chiaki said, seemingly apropos of nothing.

They watched her, but she pushed herself back up, recovering with surprising rapidity.

"I'm fine," she said. "Just promise me…"

They listened.

"Don't fight again. I didn't think it would go that far, but apparently it was a closer shave than I thought. And before you ask, Yoshino told me. Otherwise, I wonder if I would have noticed the hints."

They issued their promises, then looked at her askance as she tried to get up.

"Are you sure?" Touma asked. "You should probably—"

Chiaki waved her off.

"No, no it's okay. I just…won't move much."

Makoto moved to try and help her up.

He held her arms, and looked down at her. Her cheeks were a bit reddened from the heat of her fever. Her hair was arranged untidily on her head. The top button of her pale blue nightshirt was undone, presumably in deference to comfort.

Swallowing hard, he looked away—and spotted Touma staring as well, before noticing him watching and also looking away, with the same faint look of embarrassment he was sure he wore.

That look on her face, strained and desperate…

It had looked like someone who had been starving her whole lifetime, but was being forced to turn down a plate of food right in front of her.

_Just in case I was skeptical…_ he thought.

Then, a moment later:

_Do I also look like that?_

"That's my role, you know," Touma said, smiling weakly. "I'm her best friend, after all."

If it had been intended as a joke, it fell flat. If it was a warning, it lacked the force to do anything.

Though she was right; Touma really was closer. She was the one who fought and played with Chiaki, the one who visited when she was sick. Where had he been?

_Banned._

He swallowed, and carried on. He wasn't just going to give up.

As they walked out the door, Touma thought of something.

"Shouldn't you change?" she queried of Chiaki.

"Ah, yes," Chiaki said.

* * *

Dinner that night was subdued, their general mirth suppressed by the lack of Chiaki's reliable caustic attitude and Touma's energy, and by the wary eye everyone kept on Chiaki, whose eyes drooped more than normal and who seemed constantly on the verge of nodding off. The only isle of excitement came from an animated discussion between Misawa, Touma, and Fujioka about that day's soccer game. For Chiaki's benefit, Kana and Uchida commiserated at length about how much being sick sucked, though Kana couldn't resist getting a few digs in at her.

Makoto thought that Misawa seemed to spending a lot of time looking at Chiaki, but decided it was probably his imagination. It also seemed to his newly paranoid mind that Yoshino was watching him.

In the end, they all went home early. It was Monday, after all, and Chiaki needed to sleep early. Makoto and Touma accepted Yoshino's offer of a ride home. Before Makoto got out of the car in front of where he lived, he remembered something.

"Are we still doing that, you know, that thing you suggested? The one where you try to dress like a girl."

Touma paused a long moment, belying the seeming certainty of what she then said:

"Of course."

* * *

_Author's note: I managed to dodge adding a named original character for this long, but somehow the soccer player wormed herself deep enough into the plot that all the "that girl", "Touma's partner" references were getting painfully awkward. So I named her (watch me end up never using her again…). I'm not exactly happy about it, but oh well. The name isn't a complete coincidence, incidentally._

_Speaking of new characters, there is a new character in the newest chapters of the manga. It's probably impossible to work that character in at this point, especially when I don't know anything about the person. It's not too big a deal, because I dated myself the moment I started writing this, and it would be surprising if newer chapters didn't make this story impossible in more ways than one._


	5. Catalytic Ripples

_Author's Note: Revision (5/27/2011): Tidied up wording, made things clearer, and fixed a plothole that was thankfully very well hidden._

* * *

She whistled loudly to herself, trying to exceed the volume of the vacuum she was pushing back and forth across the floor.

It wasn't possible, of course, not even when said vacuum touted itself as "the quietest you've ever heard, or your money back!" It didn't matter, though. There was no need to hear herself. She whistled only to keep in practice.

She was a sloppy vacuumer, she knew. It was no anomaly. She cut corners because she was lazy. She was impatient in her cooking and reluctant to add much complexity, so her food was both mediocre and unimaginative. She used the dishwasher instead of hand washing because it hurt her back to hunch for that long over the sink, and thus wasted large amounts of money in electricity, water, and detergent. And let's face it: the laundry could probably stand to be washed a little more often.

It was necessary to keep up appearances, of course. The house was kept clean. The family room was spotless. But vacuuming...well, if she missed a couple of spots every time she did it, and didn't do it as much as she should, she doubted anyone would notice.

She also wondered how many of her neighbors vacuumed randomly on Monday evening; not many, she was sure.

The one thing she didn't cut corners on was Makoto. She made sure he made his bed, no matter how much he complained. She shuffled him out the door with his lunch every morning, a time when she would rather be sleeping. She had scolded him when he brought home tests full of red marks, and celebrated in her own way when he had miraculously aced the middle school entrance exam—because of a girl named Minami, she had been told.

He wasn't all that appreciative, but she didn't expect him to be. She hadn't been, when she was a child.

She smiled, thinking of the memory, and decided the kotatsu wasn't worth moving to vacuum under. It made her happy, thinking about how similar her son was to her. She had been rambunctious, loud, excitable—and yes, just a little stupid. And Her grades hadn't been much better.

She was far too old now to act like that, but she liked to think she still had a little of that in her. She knew that was what had first attracted her husband to her, what motivated him to swallow her cooking with a straight face, laugh with her at the TV... She wished she could see him more often, but he insisted he couldn't come home any earlier, that he had to make it to the meeting, that he had no time that weekend to go with her and Makoto to the beach.

She smiled weakly at the old memory. Sitting there, clapping and smiling at the sand castle Makoto had made, but unable to work up her old enthusiasm, her old _genki_, because he wasn't there.

She leaned the vacuum against the wall, finished, and kicked the table to shift it—an unnecessary habit from childhood, designed to make it look like she had moved it to vacuum underneath. Then she collapsed onto the sofa.

_Ugh. I've depressed myself._

They had spoken about her working also, back when they had first married. They had ultimately decided it was better to do the traditional thing, have her stay at home and watch over the kid they were already planning to have. He wouldn't have to work that long. They could be one happy family, sitting around the dinner table.

So much for that. It seemed a job was harder to keep than they had expected.

It hurt him too, she could see it. But what could be done? It was too late to go back, too late to break out of this rut. And what would she do about Makoto, if she wasn't around during the day? She couldn't just foist him on the Minami household every day, no matter how convenient it was.

She looked up at the clock, which was ticking away the seconds relentlessly.

_Six thirty._

Her husband was late again, had told her he would be, and Makoto's friend Uchida had called saying he would be eating at Touma's again. He did that a lot, and praised the cooking. She didn't really mind; she knew she was bad at it.

_Enough. Think about something happier._

She had loved it when, a few months ago, Uchida had let slip that she called Makoto "Mako-chan" by doing it in front of her. Uchida had quickly corrected herself, but she loved that they had a pet nickname for him just like she had as a kid. He didn't seem to appreciate it when she called him that, but it was all in good fun.

Speaking of Uchida, she was surprised Makoto had never pressured her for a cell phone of his own. But maybe that was because only Uchida had one—Makoto had mentioned that only one of his friends did, and it had to be Uchida, since she was the only one who ever called.

She thought back. She and her husband had been high school sweethearts, honestly middle school sweethearts, of the kind that seemed almost impossible nowadays. It was why she let him have more freedom than most parents, why she had never really questioned him about that girl. She was nostalgic.

Her name was Touma, she was sure of it. Chiaki must be one of those sisters he talks about. That must be it.

She thought they made a perfect couple. She would never say it, but Makoto was, well…a little less masculine than one might desire out of a boy. Touma's boyish nature was thus a perfect complement, and might at the very least shame him into behaving a little more manly.

That was what she thought, anyway.

Still, no matter how much she sympathized with or how much she liked Touma, she really should start keeping tabs, just in case. Otherwise, things might get dangerous.

_I don't really have anything else to do today._

She reached for her phonebook.

* * *

It was Natsuki who picked up the phone, ringing insistently in its cradle.

"Hello?"

"Hi! This is Minami Natsuki-san, right?" asserted a bright, chirpy voice.

It sounded strangely familiar…

"Yes," he responded, a little suspiciously. "Who are you?"

"Makoto's mother! I called you before, remember?"

"Er…"

He dug silently and rapidly through the crevices of his mind. Makoto, Makoto, who was that…

Ah. He had it. Thinking back to just before that trip to Yoshino's:

_"It's the mother of one of my friends, Makoto." Touma had said, handing him the phone, covering the mouthpiece with her hand. "She's very protective, so we had to tell her a couple of white lies to get her to agree to this. I told her you're chaperoning this trip, so assure her of that. Also, if she starts talking about me, give the phone back immediately!_

_"That doesn't make any sense," he had pointed out. "What did you tell her? Why am I—"_

_"Just do it!"_

All of that, and in the end the kid didn't even go.

_Hmm. Probably should have questioned Touma a little harder about that._

"Yes," he said.

A protracted pause. He realized he should have said more, made some small talk.

"Interesting that he couldn't go," he commented, saying what happened to be foremost on his mind.

"Go where?"

"On the trip."

"What trip?" she said, after a while, sounding confused. "He hasn't had to—"

_I should avoid this topic_, he realized._ All those lies Touma talked me into..._

"Nevermind," he cut in. "Why are you calling?"

A perplexed silence. Natsuki stared at the sliding door in front of him.

"Well, I just thought that, as Makoto's mother, we could talk about the two of them. You know what I'm talking about."

She seemed more hesitant than she had been before, pausing occasionally as she spoke. He could already tell this conversation would be fun—or rather, the opposite of that.

"The two of—what?"

He had started responding automatically, then had realized he had no idea what she was talking about.

"You don't know?" she asked.

The astonishment was palpable.

He rolled his eyes at the gossipy turn this conversation seemed to be taking. He was already starting to tune it out.

"Your daughter Touma—" she began.

"Touma's not my daughter. She's my sister," he said automatically, cutting her off. It pissed him off when people did that, even though he knew it was a rational assumption.

_I wonder if I let the anger show. Damn, I've got to watch that._

_Wait a second. She mentioned Touma._

Perhaps he should pay attention after all.

A pause on the other side of the line. Clearly the anger had indeed leeched into his voice. He would have to work on that. His brothers were always telling him he should be more amenable.

"Oh! Sorry!" the woman said. "I just thought, since you were the chaperone and all that…"

The embarrassment took the energy out of her words.

"People make that mistake all the time," he said, not as condolence.

"No, no I shouldn't have assumed. So are your parents—?"

"We don't have any."

He had been through this routine too many times. He needed to get this conversation back on track, get her to say whatever she had wanted to say about Touma.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" she said, again.

"Why are you calling again?" he asked.

Picking up on his annoyance, the woman tried to oblige.

"Ah, yes, sorry, so as I was saying, your _sister_ and—wait, actually, are you alone? It's probably better if they didn't hear any of this."

"Yes, I'm alone. But who is 'they'? What are you talking about?"

He was getting frustrated with his inability to understand this conversation, and its inability to get to the point.

"Touma and Makoto. You should make sure they're not eavesdropping."

"They're not here," he said.

"What are you talking about?" the woman asked. "Of course they're there. He's visiting, isn't he?"

"Touma is over at the other Minami's place."

_She doesn't even know where her son is? _he wondered, managing not to say it aloud for once.

"Did he tell you he was coming here?" he asked, curious despite himself. "He's definitely not here."

A long pause. Finally, he opened his mouth to say something else—

"Other…Minami?" she said, over the line, her voice was suddenly completely different, quieter. He thought he heard it shaking slightly.

His frustration deflated slightly, overridden by simple confusion, and just the tiniest tick of understanding.

He knew what it was like to be kept out of the loop. But there was the slight chance…

"Yeah. They just happen to have the same name as us. It confuses people sometimes."

"No, that can't be right!" she exclaimed, voice frantic.

She didn't sound like she believed it herself. She was trying to reason through it on the spot, he realized.

"I was told he was going to Touma's! Specifically _Touma's_!That's your place right? He's there all the time?"

_What is this conservation? Natsuki thought. What is going on?_

"No. I've never seen your son," he asserted. "Touma doesn't bring anyone here. You probably mean the other Minami household."

"I'm telling you—!"

"No! Think about it," he said, rubbing his forehead in frustration and confusion. "Haruka, Kana, Chiaki? He must have mentioned some of them?"

Another long pause. He heard heavy breathing on the other end, after a while starting to recede. He wondered if she was really calming down.

"I've heard of Chiaki," she said. "She's not your sister, then?"

"No, she's not," he said plainly. You've made a mistake. Look, I can give you their number."

"…and Makoto has never been there?" the woman continued.

"No," he repeated. "Touma doesn't bring anyone home. She's at the other Minami's all the time, though. That's probably where your son is."

"I see."

She was calm now, or seemed so, but the quality of her voice—well, it bespoke a certain level of franticness. He felt a rare pang of sympathy. He wondered where it came from.

"Could I ask for that phone number?" she said suddenly.

He gave it. He knew it by heart.

"You keep trying to tell me something about Touma," he asked immediately afterward, finally remembering the original topic. "What is it?"

A sharp intake of breath on the other side.

"No…no, nevermind" she said, subdued. "Sorry, I think—I think I'm mistaken. I'm sorry to bother you."

He knew he should probably push the point, but should he really bother for something even this confused woman thought was wrong?

"No…problem," he responded, stretching the words out as he thought.

"I'll call you back later. Goodbye."

"I see. Goodbye."

She hung up, loudly.

He stood there for an extended moment, staring at the phone in his hand, blinking.

_What the hell was that?_

* * *

She slammed the phone into the receiver.

_No! Why did I hang up? I should have kept asking questions._

She knew why, of course. If she had stayed on the line, she would have inevitably started yelling into the receiver, and that would have accomplished nothing.

There were more important phone calls to make, anyway.

She leaned back on the couch, putting her hand on her forehead as if checking for a fever, though of course there was nothing to check.

_No, not yet. Let's calm down before trying to talk to anyone. They'll hang up on you. Five minutes. Nothing bad can happen in five minutes._

She glanced at the clock.

_Seven o'clock._

This didn't make any sense! Clearly, Makoto had been lying to her, lying to both of them. But why? Why tell her he was going to Touma's when he wasn't?

Yes, it was quite a coincidence about the names—just coincidental enough so that he could refer freely to the "Minamis" without revealing anything. She saw that now. It bespoke a certain level of thought.

_That doesn't sound like Makoto._

But then, what did she really know about him? Not enough, apparently.

_Or it could really be a coincidence. Maybe you really did confuse them somehow—_

No, no. Why was she going through this again? She'd already realized while talking to that Minami guy that she couldn't have. Makoto had referred several times specifically to going to "Touma's", not "Minami's". It couldn't have been a mistake.

She leaned forward, head in hands, and stared at the clear-glass table in front of her.

It made a strange kind of sense. The weird expressions Makoto made sometimes, the way he would stop himself mid-sentence, obviously biting his tongue. It all made sense. The way that girl Touma had—

And what about her? She had lied to her point-blank, not once but twice! She had said—

Ah, but it hadn't been a lie.

_"Yes, it's just as he says. He comes to the Minami household all the time," Touma had said, eyes not quite meeting hers._

She smiled crookedly. At least she had had enough decency to try to fudge it.

And what about the other thing she had said?

_"And yes, it's also true about…the two of us."_

Touma had even grabbed his hand! She had thought it was adorable, the way they both blushed, Makoto brightly, surprised, but Touma only slightly, looking away, more like a boy than the person whose hand she was holding.

All an act. They had played her perfectly, knew just how to manipulate her—

_No, no, back up. That's way too implausible._

They probably _were_ a couple. They had to be. But it was _her_. Tricking him somehow, getting him involved—

In her mental picture, the Touma holding the boy's hand gained a sinister smile instead of a blush. On her head grew little horns—

_That can't be right! I've met her! Even if she lied, she can't be…quite like that._

Okay, maybe it's those other Minamis. They lure kids in and—

She slouched downward, her suppositions growing increasingly more bizarre. She was driving herself crazy thinking.

Suddenly, she jumped straight up, turning to look at the clock, already knowing what she would see.

_Seven Fifteen_

_What the hell am I doing?_

She ripped the phone back out of its receiver, and hastily input the digits for the other Minami household. As she did so, her eyes rested on the portrait on the wall, of the three of them at a park. They smiled and waved at the camera, the father kneeling and holding up a much younger Makoto.

He had stuck a flower in his hair.

* * *

Haruka didn't pick up the phone until the fourth ring, having been preoccupied tucking Chiaki in for an early bedtime.

"Hello. Minami residence. Haruka speaking. Who are you?" she said politely, but a little robotically. It had been a tiring day, for more than one reason.

"Haruka? This is Makoto's mother. Is he there?"

The words came out in a jumble, as if she couldn't decide what to say first. She seemed nervous.

_What is she doing calling me by personal name? I've never even talked to her before!_

Ignoring the breach of protocol, Haruka had actually started to turn and lean over to look into the kotatsu room, before realizing she already knew the answer.

She turned back.

"No. He left just now, actually. Is something wrong?"

"Where is he going? Do you know?" The voice seemed frantic now.

"Home," Haruka said. "Yoshino is giving him a ride, but they're stopping at Uchida's first, so maybe it'll take a while. I wouldn't worry. He told you he was coming here, right?"

Haruka was making the effort to be extra-soothing, since the woman was clearly quite agitated.

She found herself waiting for an answer.

Finally, the woman responded, in a voice tinged with suspicion, and a little unsteady.

"That's right… Uchida has to be in on this too. Just what is going on…"

She had clearly forgotten she was still on the phone. Haruka also had no idea what she was talking about.

"It's okay, I'm sure your son is fine. I'm sure he just forgot to tell you he was coming. Look, in the future, I'll make sure he calls you whenever he gets here, okay? I just assumed—"

Haruka began making the appropriate "stay calm" gestures with her free hand, purely out of habit.

"He's there all the time, right?" the woman asked suddenly.

"Well, I wouldn't say all the time," Haruka said, after some thought, a little surprised. "Not that often, actually."

A strange gasping noise on the other end of the line.

"Is something wrong?" Haruka asked again. "Has Makoto been—"

"He's been lying to me about where he's been going for months," she cut in suddenly, voice shaky. "I—I don't know where's he's been, or what he's been doing. He told me he was at Touma's house! But now I find out he's been visiting a friend I didn't even know he had, and you tell me he's not even there that much, which means—"

She paused while she gathered herself. Haruka wasn't sure whether the woman was crying, but she might have been. Haruka opened her mouth to say something—

The front door swung open with a thud. Kana was back from walking Fujioka out of the building.

"Ah, Haruka, sometimes Fujioka is such—Is something wrong? Who is it?"

Kana had noticed the strange look on Haruka's face.

Haruka covered the mouthpiece with her hand.

"Apparently, Makoto has been—"

"You wouldn't have anything to do with it, would you?" the woman at the end of the line asked suddenly.

"No! Why would you think so?" Haruka snapped, taken aback, and just a little angry. She didn't like it when people impugned her reputation.

"I didn't really think so…"

Covering the mouthpiece again, Haruka turned back.

"Sorry, I'll tell you about it later, okay? I need to deal with this."

Kana looked at her for a moment, nodded, and walked back to the kotatsu, turning on the TV. Haruka was sure she was going to listen in.

The woman hadn't said a word. Haruka waited for her to say something. The clock ticked away.

They were at an impasse.

Haruka didn't know what to make of this sudden explosion of drama on her doorstep. Makoto had always seemed like a good kid, and there was seemingly no reason this should involve her. But why had Makoto lied about going to her house? And—

Haruka glanced down the hallway at the room where Chiaki slept.

She needed to know what was going on, for Chiaki's sake. No matter how much she hated awkward conversations.

Haruka sighed.

"Want to talk about it?" she asked.

Haruka was taking the gambit that the woman was in the kind of state where she would pour her heart out to a complete stranger.

She was. After only a brief pause, the words flowed like a torrent into her ear.

"I don't know where I went wrong! One moment he's just a little boy, making cute drawings I can put on the refrigerator, the next thing I know he's hiding things from me, lying about where is and what he's doing—"

She sniffed, loudly.

"I just don't know…"

"Well, he hasn't been doing anything here," Haruka reassured. "I have no idea why he would—"

"I knew I should have questioned him more carefully! What kind of boy keeps a stash of his girlfriend's clothes under his bed? It doesn't make any sense, now that I think about it! I mean, what would possibly be the use of—No! They couldn't have been planning to do that, could they? No, that still doesn't—"

"Girlfriend?" Haruka asked suddenly, startled, having played back the last few sentences in her mind. Her eyebrows furled in confusion. "He has a stash of—"

"Yes, that infernal Minami, Minami…Touma! God knows what they've been doing under my nose. Going to her house. As if! I can't believe I fell for that. I should have kept better track—"

_Wait, what?_

"Touma? She's not—"

"Yes, Touma! You know her, right? Oh, of course, she's there _all the time_. With him, right? Do you have any idea what they're doing? Do they talk about it?"

"The—Tou—_what_?" Haruka, unintentionally verbalizing the trend of her thoughts.

"You don't know? Oh, but I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Apparently, they're pretty good at—"

"No! You're wrong!" Haruka hadn't meant to just shout it like that, but she couldn't think of any other way to get the message across. Her eyes slipped leftward, to where Kana wasn't even pretending to watch the TV, instead staring at her with those soul-searing eyes of hers.

_That's right. I bet this conversation is way more entertaining than the Sensei and Ninomiya-kun Second Anniversary Special rerun._

Meanwhile, shocked silence on the phone line.

"You're wrong!" She continued. "I don't know why you think that, but I know for a fact that you're wrong! There's no way those two are—"

Having got so far, she choked on the last few words.

_Damn it, why am I so bad with this?_

"No, no, listen," the woman was saying, trying to assert her position, but Haruka could hear in her voice that Haruka had shaken her conviction, no matter how convincing an argument she thought she had put together. "Clearly, they have been hiding it from you. Makoto is a better liar than I thought, and—

"No, damn it!" Haruka interrupted, a sudden spurt of defensive anger rushing through her. "My sister—Chiaki hasn't spent the last weekend in a fit of—of—fit of apoplexy because of a damned hangnail! Do you have _any conception_ how worried I've been because your son and that—that damned"—she bit her tongue barely in time—"that they think they're in love with her? Don't trivialize it with your nonsense!"

She hadn't meant to say that either, hadn't meant to reveal that much. She breathed heavily, forgetting to keep her mouth away from the receiver. Next to her, Kana's eyes had gone wide, her slack-jawed expression clearly expressing amazement.

_Damn it. I hope she didn't catch that part about Touma._

Haruka hadn't expected this. All of this, and she was the one who lost control. It was just that the tiredness and the worry had gotten to her. The woman's sheer confusion had brought all that frustration to the surface.

_That must be it_, she tried to justify to herself.

"What—what do you mean?" the woman was back to her shocked uncertainty of earlier. "Your sister is—"

"You heard me! I don't want to talk about this anymore, go ask your son—"

A loud slam reverberated inside the receiver.

"—to tell you the truth! You've got me upset, and—"

"Mom! I'm back!" Haruka heard dimly through the line, garbled by the transmission. She stopped, somehow calming instantly, knowing this conversation was over.

It was almost as if she could hear the slow-motion explosion about to take place.

"Minami-san," the woman said, a moment later, voice carefully controlled. "I need to leave the phone now. I think you understand why. I hope to speak to you again"

"Ah, yes. Nice to meet you," Haruka responded mechanically.

She slammed the phone a moment after Makoto's mother hung up, burning off some residual adrenaline.

After a moment to gather herself, she turned to look at Kana, who merely tilted her head and raised an eyebrow.

"Ah, well…" Haruka began.

The phone rang again.

_Oh Thank God!_ she thought to herself, immediately spinning around to pick it up, before realizing it might be Makoto's mother again.

Thankfully, it wasn't.

"Hello," Natsuki's gruff voice entering her ears was quite welcome at that moment.

"Natsuki! Hi! How are you?"

"I'm, uh, good. What about you?"

Haruka wasn't aware that he put extra effort into formalities in her presence, since she had never heard him speak in any other situation.

"Oh, I'm fine. Touma should be home soon. How are your brothers?"

"They're doing well, I guess."

Kana's narrow-eyed look told Haruka she knew quite well that Haruka was stalling for time, and she wasn't buying what Haruka was selling.

"So why are you calling, Natsuki?" She finally asked, suppressing a sigh.

"Ah, well, that's because—"

The normally staid Natsuki wasn't quite sure how to properly bring up the topic.

"—well, I think I'm too late, but I, uh, wanted to warn you that the mother of one of your sisters' friends, Makoto, called me, and she's pretty distressed about the kid. I ended up having to give her your number. But there was a busy signal so…"

He wasn't going to admit that he had wasted time realizing and then convincing himself he needed to call, possibly missing his chance to issue a timely warning.

_Damn right you're too late!_ She thought.

Not expressing that sentiment out loud, she spoke with her characteristic smile, only slightly forced:

"You're right; it was her on the phone just now. But it wasn't really a big deal."

A brazen lie.

"Oh, I see. Were you able to clear up her confusion?"

"Mostly. But she still—"

She froze mid-sentence. Confusion, he had said. But the thing she was confused about was Touma, and Makoto, and Chiaki—

_"I'd rather you not mention this to Natsuki. Keep this a secret, just for now. For Touma's sake." _Chiaki had said.

He couldn't know, could he?

_No, no, of course not. He must be talking about the other—_

"Haruka? You still there?"

With anyone else he wouldn't have bothered asking.

"Ah, sorry," Haruka apologized, startled out of her introspection. "Yeah, I don't know why Makoto would lie to her like that, but he's getting the grilling of his life right now."

Natsuki snorted.

"He's in middle school. That's just about the right time to start acting like an idiot. I hope he gets straightened out."

That was an unusual sentiment coming from Natsuki, and Haruka realized that, but—

"Oh, I see."

—was all she said.

Haruka's eyes slid sideways towards Kana, who was reading a manga she had borrowed from Touma.

"Well, I guess that's it," she said, deciding she needed to face the music. "Good—"

"Actually, that's not the only reason I called," Natsuki interrupted, hastily.

"It isn't?" Haruka asked a moment later, startled.

"It's—"

He hesitated, voice uncertain.

_Oh, this can't be good._

She hated awkward conversations.

"It's about your sister, Chiaki," he said finally, heaving a sigh of relief at finally saying it.

_No._

"I—I see," she responded, not managing to completely hide the quaver in her voice. "What about her?"

Kana put the manga down and paid close attention again.

Natsuki spoke slowly and carefully, but was still unable to quite say it properly.

"I've been putting this off for a while now because…I don't want to be wrong. I just…I don't want you to think I'm crazy, okay? I don't want you to stop talking with me."

He stopped, grasping for the words. He couldn't stop now. He had gone too far.

Haruka's grip tightened on the phone.

_Damn it_, she thought.

"This involves Touma," Natsuki said. I have to—I can't just let it go on like this. That woman's call reminded me that I haven't...I haven't done enough. I can't just let this go anymore. Please don't think I'm crazy. That—that boy, Fujioka I think his name is, says I'm wrong, but I can't believe him any longer."

With anyone else, he would have just asked, and asked long ago. He hardly cared what others thought of him. It was his misfortune that he needed to ask the one person he least wished to bring the topic up with. He had put it off, and put it off, but the spectacle of Makoto's mother had reminded him why he needed to ask. He couldn't allow himself to be as clueless as that.

Even now, though, he hedged and delayed as long as he could, in an almost direct reversal of his normal mannerisms.

Haruka's face had knit itself into the wide-eyed expression of dismay and discombobulation that was unique to her.

"The fact of the matter is," Natsuki said. "I've been watching Touma for a long time now. A long time. I know I'm not the best judge of these kinds of things, but…"

He stopped again, composing the next few sentences.

"There is no way to say this that isn't blunt. From her behavior and actions, especially around your sister, I think that their relationship…isn't just an ordinary friendship. I think it's one of those, you know—you know what I mean!"

"I'm sorry for even suggesting something like this about one of your sisters, but I need to know. Am I right or am I wrong?"

Haruka just breathed heavily into the line, not answering.

"It would help so much to know," Natsuki said, finally. "You can tell me I'm crazy. I just need to know."

His normally unassailable voice finally cracked, just slightly.

Across the room from Natsuki, Akira, having walked in unnoticed just moments ago, almost dropped his cup, not at the content—which he hadn't understood—but at Natsuki's manner of delivery. It was almost as if he had become a different person.

Haruka was sorely tempted to hang up the phone then and there. That was what her instincts told her to do. That was what she had done in the past, in similar situations; dodge or flee, that was easiest.

But that was the worst option at the moment.

"I—I don't know," she responded, constantly mindful of her promise to Chiaki but also unable to tell so direct a lie.

She swallowed, and spun up the best, most believable story she could.

"T—to be honest"—she briefly mused on the blatant untruth of that statement—"I've…suspected something like that for a while."

She took a breath.

"I've watched them also, but I…haven't seen anything to prove me right or wrong. I don't…think I can ask her about it, not yet. So I don't know. I'm…sorry."

In truth, despite seeing them far more often than Natsuki had, she had never picked up on it, not until the bombshell of last Friday. She didn't even know if Kana had.

Thankfully, he didn't pick up on the hesitation and pauses which accompanied her ad-hoc lie.

He sighed, a moment later. He had fulfilled his brotherly duties, and even though he still didn't know the truth, the relief of having done so was immense.

"I see," he said, recovering a little of his composure. "It's very…good to know I'm not crazy."

He meant that.

"Tell me if you see anything, okay?" he continued, after a moment of thought. "I—We need to watch them. Make sure of the truth. No matter how she tries to hide it."

After another long moment, he finally hit upon something to say.

"Middle school is a dangerous time. I was there."

It sounded nicely meaningful and cliché.

Haruka sighed, her eyebrows relaxing just a little.

"Alright, I'll…keep in touch."

The conversation seemed to be over. She could end it now.

_No, I have to say this._

"Listen, Natsuki," she said, taking another breath. "All that stuff I keep telling you, about reconnecting with Touma? I know she's not exactly being cooperative, but you have to keep trying. You can't just let her slip away. I mean, well, she's your sister. If you guys just had a better relationship, you wouldn't have to worry about this. You know what I'm saying."

It was a familiar topic. She had been hammering this point at Natsuki for a long, long time, and had even done her best to push Touma from her end. The need for it only grew more urgent now.

"I—I know. I know." Natsuki responded, reminded of his own failure.

He still had no idea how to go about doing what she said.

"I need to go," Haruka said, after a moment, needing to escape the conversation.

After a final exchange of pleasantries, Haruka hung up first, again hard, closing her eyes in relief.

"Interesting conversation," Kana said suddenly, appearing next to her, eyes level with hers. She smiled the paradoxically serious version of her mischievous smile. "I believe I should hear all about it."

Haruka sighed.

It was eight thirty.

* * *

In the end, Kana had volunteered to transmit what information needed to be transmitted to Chiaki, relieving Haruka of that particular burden. She felt slightly ashamed at the way she dodged these conversations, but Kana was willing to cover for her, and honestly, better at it. That was what she told herself, anyway.

Kana, for her part, neglected to mention that she planned to greatly restrict what she would say.

Mako-chan needed protection, even now.

_Well, that was quite a long day,_ Haruka thought to herself, inspecting her freshly-washed hair in the mirror.

_Much better, _she thought.

It had been quite frazzled earlier.

She put the towel back on her hair.

_Well, time to brush my teeth, _she thought, grabbing her toothbrush and cup from among the others by the sink. If the cup happened to be festooned with fish and water bubbles, then so what? Nothing wrong with that. No matter what Maki thought.

She opened the medicine cabinet containing the toothpaste and grabbed the tube.

Closing the mirrored door, she almost missed it entirely, distracted as she was.

She froze in position, then swung the door back open.

She reached her hand in and picked it up off the shelf. Now that she thought about it, it had been there for a couple of days, lying innocuously among the other objects, almost camouflaged.

_This is…_

Her eyebrows almost jumped off her head.

She responded to the situation with remarkable calmness, everything taken into account.

_This is certainly Kana's, and it can only be placed so obviously because she wants me to see it…_

She reasoned out the consequences and necessary actions with stunning alacrity, surprising even herself. She must have been prepared for this, she realized, must have foreseen it for months.

Maki was occasionally right, it seemed.

She placed it back and shut the cabinet door with finality.

_Not today. Not dealing with this today. It can wait a day. She can wait._

She methodically finished brushing her teeth. She wouldn't let it rattle her.

By the time she finished everything, it was nearly ten.

Time to sleep.

_But a few things first._

She was surprised, opening the door, to find Chiaki awake and looking fairly alert, sitting up in bed.

"Oh, hello, Haruka-nee-sama!" she said, marginally startled.

"Feeling better?" Haruka asked.

"A little. The nap helped a lot." She sounded hoarse.

Haruka thought about that. Chiaki's hair was matted with sweat, a positive sign; the fever suppressant was finally working. She could probably use some water.

"Well, let's take your temperature," she said, finally, deciding the water could wait, and unsheathing the thermometer in her left hand.

"I'm back!" Kana exclaimed a few moments later, jumping into the room. She set a cup of water down on the side table with a thud.

"Here's the water you wanted, and…"

She dragged the line out as Haruka realized she was holding something behind her back.

"An apple!"

Said apple promptly flew into the air, as Kana fell down to the ground, bear-missile deflecting off her face with surprising force. Haruka barely managed to catch it before it hit the wall, and then bent down to pick up the apple, which had landed on the bed.

"Ow! What was that for?" Kana asked loudly.

"As if you don't know!" Chiaki exclaimed back, before descending into a round of coughing. She had taken the thermometer out and was holding it in her hand.

"Geez," Haruka commented, handing Fujioka back to her and patting her on the back. "Now's not the time to exert yourself. What's wrong with an apple anyway?"

She held it up and mused out loud:

"Though it's not really the proper food for a sick person…"

"See how ungrateful she is? What kind of sister do I have anyway?" Kana asked from the floor, clearly just complaining for the sake of complaining, in typical fashion.

"Just get up already," Haruka commanded, setting her things down on the table and turning to look at her. "Cut the sick girl some slack."

Grumbling, Kana sat up and began to prop herself up.

Haruka turned to leave, having given up on the temperature reading. She seemed relatively fine.

"I left some medicine on the table, be sure to follow the instructions and take it. Kana, I leave it to you if she needs anything."

"Yeah, yeah," Kana responded, a tiny bit sulkily.

The sound of rustling sheets caused her to turn back. Chiaki was getting up.

"Going to the bathroom?" Haruka asked, after a moment of watching her get her socks on.

She shook her head, loosening her hair.

"I'm going to use the computer. I've been awol for a couple of days."

Haruka shook her head and put on a stern expression.

"No. I know you're feeling better, but you should still rest. The fever might come back."

Chiaki's eyes still drooped more than normal.

"I'm not going to be able to sleep," she insisted. "Not now that I've napped. Talking with Uchida and Yoshino again will help me feel better. Uchida's got that energy."

"Even so—"

"Just let her do it," Kana said, already on her bed reading manga. "She'll be out of school a couple of days no matter what. And finals are over. What does it matter?"

Haruka closed her eyes momentarily, considering.

"Fine. But I still want you back in bed by eleven. You too, Kana. You've got school."

"Yeah, sure."

Kana didn't sound very sincere.

* * *

A while later, Haruka closed the door to her bedroom behind her.

_First time I've ever heard her admit she likes Uchida's energy_, she thought.

She stretched, arms above her head. She was ready for sleep.

_Time to check my email again._

Twice a day, that was her rhythm.

She pushed the mouse, and the screen on the little laptop obediently flickered to life.

Honestly, she didn't get much email. Occasionally, Maki or Atsuko would send something, but they much preferred using the phone. Still, it was necessary to have an account, for various practical purposes.

Absent-mindedly typing her login password—an amalgam of their three names and classroom numbers two years ago—she mused about how the big of a deal the Internet was to Chiaki and her friends. She wondered when she should give Chiaki a cell phone. She had given one to Kana recently, but…

It pulled her heartstrings, thinking about her sisters growing up. Finally time to let go, and—

She shook her head. Not now.

She glanced at the list of messages, which had finally loaded, and did a double-take.

"They—they—" she said out loud.

_They accepted me!_

It took a moment to soak in.

She felt as if she should have been jumping up, or crying in sadness, or _something_, but instead she sat there.

Why did she feel worried instead of happy? Uncertain instead of expectant?

She knew the answer, of course.

It had eaten at her, ever since that hectic week last year. Three consecutive graduation ceremonies, in order from least important to most. Chiaki wearing that adorable little hat for the last time, barely distinguishable in a sea of others. Kana looking strangely serious, in that uniform that was clearly growing too small for her. And of course her own.

It should have a moment of celebration, but instead she couldn't stop wondering, watching the stage. Couldn't stop thinking, waving to Kana with the camera. Couldn't kill the uncertainty.

She had a better sense of things now. A few short years of education, a teaching degree, and she could spend the rest of her life in a classroom. It made sense; she was good with kids, she would love the job, the benefits were good. She could stay here and take care of her sisters. They could stop having to rely on Takeru and his mother. She would have Natsuki to talk to.

But…

Her teachers would disagree with her. They had been appalled when she didn't apply immediately for the best schools available. So much talent, they said, was wasted in anything but the finest overseas universities. Her friends agreed.

She could have ignored them, could have ignored all of it, if there weren't a part of her which wished for it too.

Her whole life had been devoted to her sisters. She didn't resent this; enjoyed it, in fact. But she wanted to know what she could do, what she could achieve, if she only let herself.

So finally, she gave herself one chance, exactly one.

A part of her had hoped, perversely, that she wouldn't have a choice. That an application, from a student in Japan, who had wasted a year doing nothing, who was applying to one of the best colleges in existence, who didn't even submit to an interview, would be summarily rejected, no matter what her accomplishments or awards, no matter how brilliantly her teachers recommended her.

So much for that.

Her sisters, if they knew, would make the decision for her. Kana, especially, would never abide a decision to abandon something like that for them. Even Chiaki would fight through her tears and urge her on.

They would never understand how much she wanted to stay here, stay with them. That they weren't holding her back, she was holding _herself_ back.

She had almost told them earlier, in a moment of determination, just before she came home to find Chiaki with her world shattered. How foolish.

_I will never tell them. Not unless I go._

She just couldn't stop thinking.

Thinking about Kana and the hopeless dishes she still conjured up, despite all her teaching, and how strangely endearing her misguided efforts were. About what the shopkeeper had said, about Chiaki showing up disheveled and crying, how much Chiaki still depended on her, no matter how much she had changed.

Most importantly, thinking about how peaceful she felt, drinking tea at the kotatsu with her sisters, how happy she felt when they visibly enjoyed her food, how satisfying it was to stand on the balcony with the scent of drying laundry in the wind, the sound of laughter behind her, and the sun in her eyes. About how good life seemed, at moments like that.

And about Chiaki, who was still so young and vulnerable, trying to be strong but...

Would she abandon everything for an ambition she did not even understand?

She slid her head down into her hands.

_What now?_

* * *

Author's Note: A bit of a short transition chapter, without much Chiaki, Makoto, or Touma. It is necessary development and I've known for a while it was coming. I hope it's not too much of a comedown after the roller coaster of the previous few chapters.


	6. Cup Yakisoba Genshou

_Author's note: Well, after an epic delay, here it is._

_Mako-chan grows more disturbing by the second. Therapy wouldn't be a bad suggestion…_

_Update 8/4/2011: More polish, more scenes, more description. Huzzah. I hope I know how to design and describe outfits for girls…_

_Update 6/15/2013: I'd just like to add: Uchida's full name, according to the manga, is Uchida Yuka, FYI._

* * *

A thud sounded against her window. Touma looked up, mildly startled.

He was here.

She got up and walked to the window, where she spotted Makoto about to chuck another piece of tanbark up at her. Spotting her, he waved, dropping the piece of wood.

She closed the blinds, just a tad abruptly. He was half an hour late.

At the bottom of the wooden stairs, she paused and considered her options.

It was Sunday morning. That was unfortunate. It meant all her brothers were home; In particular, Natsuki, who had weekends off, was home.

That was one of the reasons that his newfound job had originally escaped her notice. Now that she knew, she occasionally wondered how he had convinced his school to let him work. Was he hiding it, or did they just not care?

Ordinarily, in this situation, she would simply sit at the kotatsu and wait until all her brothers were somewhere else—or trick them into going somewhere else—then rush Makoto up the stairs, but there wasn't time for that. The others were waiting.

_I have to take the risky option, then._

She strode into the family room, where Natsuki sat watching TV, and bent down to grab a magazine from the table.

"Oh," she said, as if she had just thought of something. "I'm going to get the mail. I might have a package today."

Natsuki looked at her curiously.

She casually slid the door closed behind her, cutting off the line-of-sight between the room and the hallway.

_Yes, that should work well enough._

Outside the door, she found Makoto waiting. He started to walk forward, that consistent goofy smile on his face. She gestured at him, a bit frantically.

"Hurry it up, it's more dangerous than usual—"

Grabbing Makoto by the arm, she started to turn around, and froze mid-sentence.

Natsuki was right behind her. He wasn't wearing a friendly expression.

"Nat—Natsuki!" she managed to say.

"Interesting mail," he said simply.

"Ah, well, my friend just happened to show up right now. What a coincidence!"

She chuckled weakly.

"Uh-huh," Natsuki said.

"Why don't you introduce yourself?" she said, pulling Makoto forward insistently. Makoto was starting to look panicky.

"H—hi. I'm Makoto. Pleased to meet you, Minami-san."

He bowed formally, a little shakily.

"So you're Makoto, huh. Interesting to meet you," Natsuki responded, without flourish.

Ordinarily, she would have told him to more polite to her friends, but she didn't exactly have the upper hand in this conversation. And Natsuki clearly wasn't being tactless by accident.

"We'll just get going then!" she said, faux cheerily, walking back through the door and shoving Makoto—who kept unwisely looking back at Natsuki—with her back up the stairs.

Natsuki didn't protest, but she could feel his eyes on the back of her neck.

She didn't relax until they were back in her room with the door closed. As always, she ignored the various articles of clothing and manga books strewn around the floor.

_How did he know? _she wondered, leaning on the door. _Was it on my face or something?_

Makoto looked a little pale. She wondered if she did also.

"Is he always like that?" he asked, hand on his chest.

"Sometimes. I don't think he likes you much. Not after that call from your mother."

"Ah yes…" he said, fidgeting.

"Get changed," she told him impatiently, shooing him over to her bed.

He kneeled and slid out one of the drawers underneath.

"I'm surprised he's okay with me being in your room like this, especially after you tried to sneak me in," he asked, still bothered by the encounter.

"Who knows?" Touma asked. "More importantly, who cares? I don't know how he thinks."

"I see…"

Touma watched him sift through the drawer, looking for his stash of girls' skirts and shorts.

"So how did you convince her?" Touma asked, completing her thought.

"What?"

Touma loomed over him.

"Your mother. How the heck did even you talk her into letting you out the door, much less come visit _me_? I'm your accomplice after all. It hasn't been a week."

Natsuki had briefed her on the details of the phone call he had received, apparently not at all suspicious of Touma being involved in the deception. She had known immediately that Makoto was busted. Later, he told her that he hadn't been yelled at as much as he had expected, but he was still grounded a—mild, she thought—one week.

"Well, she actually let me go early. I asked her to go, and—"

Touma snorted.

"That's unheard of. For this? She didn't even end up grounding you for the whole weekend! What kind of punishment is that? Man, if only Natsuki were this lenient!"

"Ah …" Makoto began, blushing a little.

They had long ago stopped noticing this reversal of gender dynamics between them.

"Well?" Touma demanded, crossing her arms.

"I think it's the way I explained it. I told her that I was meeting with you to plot how to…get at…Chiaki."

He didn't look up.

"Uh-huh. And this is a _good_ explanation?"

"For my mom, yes. She has a soft spot for this kind of thing. Since that's sort of how she met my father. You should hear how she talks about it."

He pulled out a light blue-colored skirt and held it out in front of himself, pausing for a moment before laying it out on the bed.

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Touma commented.

"Even so, it's true," he responded, a bit peeved.

Actually, he wasn't sure if that was the reason at all. Sure, his mother could see that being held at home was driving him nuts. Sure, it was the only reason that made sense. However, something about the way she had so easily given in…

"I'm sure it is," Touma said, skeptically.

"Besides!" he said suddenly, looking up. "That's more than enough! How do you think I felt, knowing you were going to her house every day, while I wasn't even allowed to step outside? I couldn't even go as Mako-chan!"

The minor outburst lost a lot of its effect being spoken upward from a kneeling position—at some point Makoto had learned to sit properly, on his calves. Touma just smiled slightly.

"Jealous?" she asked, flicking her unusually long hair. She had skipped the haircut she originally planned for this week. She bent down to look in his face condescendingly.

"Let me tell you. She likes the hat I got for her bear. I've seen her using it. But your hair ribbon—no sign of that thing."

"I spent hours choosing that thing—hey, don't just talk like your victory is assured! It's not!" he countered, suddenly coming back to life.

She stood back up.

"Yeah, sure, whatever." she glanced over at the bedroom door, which now had a heavy box jammed in front of it, in case Natsuki decided to pay a surprise visit. It wouldn't stop him from seeing Makoto mid-change, but it would delay him long enough for them…to do something.

Okay, so they didn't really have a contingency plan. He couldn't even climb out of the window, not on the second floor.

She watched him pull a second, yellow skirt out of the space reserved for him.

"You done choosing yet?" she asked.

"Well, it's starting to be spring, so I should go for lighter colors, but I'm not sure about which trim I want…"

He wore a serious expression.

The first time she had heard him agonize over something like this, she had laughed hysterically. Now, she just took it as a matter of course.

"Well, don't take too long," she said, lying down on her bed, avoiding the clothing laid out on it.

Makoto sighed loudly.

"I can't believe I'm doing this again," he commented, resignedly. "I thought I'd escaped."

"You won't escape," she said, matter-of-factly. "At least not until you confess."

"Why? Why can't 'Mako-chan' just disappear?"

"Makoto," she said, rolling over to make direct eye contact. Makoto froze, pinned by her look.

"Look, Makoto. You're good at being a girl. Better than I am, even. That doesn't just happen against your will. Kana didn't uncover anything that wasn't already there. I faced my problems; why can't you?"

He broke the eye contact, looking down. They'd had this discussion before.

"I refuse to accept that," he insisted, almost spitting out the word refuse. "I don't ever dress like this when I don't have to. I can stop."

"You sound just like a cigarette smoker," she said, tossing to herself a tangerine she had picked up from somewhere.

There was a brief moment of silence, and then Touma continued.

"What's wrong with admitting it?" she asked. "I'll let you keep coming here. Just dress up once in a while, join our shopping trips. I doubt Uchida or Yoshino will mind. No one will know. It's harmless."

"Why does it matter to you so much?" Makoto asked, annoyed. "What does this even have to do with you?"

Touma didn't answer. Makoto looked up; she was facing away from him now, at the closet.

This was new, a break in the ritualistic flow of their conversation. Ordinarily, Touma would say something flippant, probably imply that Makoto was dodging the topic. Instead, she wasn't even looking at him, and what little he could read of her body language from her back suggested that she was pensive, almost depressed.

_Did I say something wrong?_

He groped for something to say.

"Nice alarm clock. I used to love that show—"

"I hate it," Touma said.

"Ah."

Well, that hadn't helped. How about—

"The blue one," she said suddenly, startling him.

"What?"

"The blue skirt," she said, sitting up and grabbing the object in question. "It looks better on you. Trust me."

She grasped his shoulder to get the point across, holding the skirt in her other hand. Her face was serious.

"Ah, I see…" he responded, taking it from her. He had long ago learned it was impossible to get Touma to pass any opinion on clothing, so this was surprising. Perhaps she was just trying to get ready.

"Here, let me get you a good shirt too," she said, jumping up and sliding open the closet door, sifting through the region of girlish shirts that she only pretended to own.

"Oh, thanks…" was all he could say.

He watched her as she shifted back and forth, gathering up likely clothing candidates in her arms.

Thankfully, he mused, she had stopped wearing those overly large, concealing shirts. Those really stopped one from appreciating—

He shook his head to clear it.

"Touma!"

"What?" she asked, not turning, focusing on the shirts.

"How is she? How is Chiaki?"

Touma paused for a moment.

"She's doing better. She was only out of school for a day. You know that; you saw her. It was only a small flu, after all."

"You know what I mean!"

Touma turned and arranged the shirts down on the bed, not looking up.

"What do you want me to say? She's doing exactly what she said she would. Mostly, she's pretending nothing happened. I tried talking to her a few times, but she just keeps telling me to wait."

Touma stopped, briefly. She wasn't aware she was clenching one of the shirts in her left hand.

"It's frustrating, you know? Things are back to normal. Normal is pretty good. It could be worse. We're still close; closer than _you_ are, anyway. But it's frustrating."

She looked up in surprise at the *thud* sound. She panicked for half a moment, thinking that the sound had come from the door, but no, it had come from in front of her.

Makoto seemed to have kicked the bed.

"I'm sorry," he said after a moment, opening his eyes. "It's just, I wish I could have gone. You don't know what it's like being forced to stay away at a time like that! It's been driving me insane. I wasn't even allowed any phone calls! I wish I could—"

"You'll get your chance soon enough. You're free now, aren't you?" Touma said, interrupting him by tossing him the pink shirt she had chosen. "Now get dressed. We're wasting too much time here."

She turned to resolutely face the wall, and its poster of a famous soccer player.

Today was the day she had chosen to finally do what she said she would. She had asked Uchida and Yoshino to help her; they would buy her new clothing, buy her things to wear, maybe change her hairstyle. It couldn't be just about clothing; the school uniforms, at least, dictated that. They would criticize her on her behavior, tell her when she was acting too boyish. All because she needed to test something.

Makoto watched her for a moment. She had asked him to come with her, told him to come specifically as Mako-chan, supposedly to input his thoughts and judgment about clothing and behavior, which was apparently quite good. He had argued at first, saying there was no way he could even step outdoors, that he didn't even want to dress up as Mako-chan.

But…

She had been so serious about it. So serious that it seemed ridiculous, downright unfriend-like to argue with her. So, even though it was seemingly impossible, he had asked for permission to go; his mother had surprised him by agreeing readily.

Touma would never admit it, but he suspected that she wanted him there for moral support.

It was all fairly routine to Makoto at this point: the skirt, the shirt, the accessories. Today, he went with the new bracelet he had bought recently, the purse he had for shopping excursions such as this. There was also the jacket he needed to remember to put on before he left the house; it was still fairly cold.

And of course, the hairclip. It was very important, this magic device which allowed him to switch hairstyles with ease and fool everyone.

When Touma finally turned around, he maintained enough dignity not to ask if he looked good.

Strangely, Touma looked faintly embarrassed, rubbing the back of her head. He learned why when she cleared her throat and explained:

"Actually, Kana talked to me a while back, and said the next time you were here…"

In lieu of explanation, she marched around the bed, past him, and across the room. She leaned over and reached into the bottom drawer of her desk—shamefully cluttered—and under some strategically placed school supplies, to pull out a long, bulky object. She held it out in front of her, in front of his eyes.

Said eyes refused to focus for a moment.

Then he saw it.

"That—that's a—"

"Yes, it's a stuffed bra. You're rather flat-chested, for a girl your age. Not that there's anything wrong with that, normally. But it's starting to stretch plausibility."

"I can't wear something like that!"

"Look," she began, looking him straight on, finding the resolve to override the awkwardness. She was glad the window blinds next to her were closed.

"Kana's right," she continued. "It just isn't plausible anymore. Look at you. You're supposed to be two years older than me, but you're flat as a board. How will we look, standing next to each other? Next to Uchida and Yoshino?"

"There's plenty of flat—"

"Not that flat!"

"But—"

She strode forward, towards him, menacingly. He backpedaled, almost tripping over a pair of Touma's pants on the floor.

"Don't make me force it on you!" Touma said, and, in his flustered state, he couldn't tell if she really wanted to or not.

He shook his head violently, holding up his hands to ward her off, his back finally hitting the bookshelf full of manga behind him.

"Why today? Why now? If Uchida sees me—"

"What about Yoshino?" Touma demanded, swinging the object like a necklace. "You know she suspects already! Do you want her to find out? Do you?"

"I, I—"

Touma stepped closer, her shadow falling over him. Why did she have to be taller than him? And so much stronger…

"Alright, I'll do it! I'll do it! Just turn around!"

She handed it to him and backed up, turning around.

_Why do I always give in so easily?_

He refused to accept the obvious answer.

"Are you done yet?" Touma asked, facing away, finally letting some of the embarrassment show on her cheeks. Unnoticed, her left eyebrow twitched repeatedly.

"Actually, I…"

A silence.

"What? What is it?" she asked, refusing to look.

"I can't—I don't know how to work this latch!"

"Seriously?"

"Seriously! Let me try—"

A while later, after several tries, including one where he had to grab onto the chair for support after almost falling, she swallowed hard and turned to help him.

When they finally exited the room, Makoto with jacket in hand, they were both blushing furiously.

"So you understand now? I don't have to do this again?"

"Yes! Yes, I do!" he insisted.

Touma quickly scanned the vicinity. To her dismay, they had forgotten to check for her brothers first. Fortunately, they seemed still all to be downstairs.

She thought for moment. It still bothered her, about Natsuki.

"Actually…" Makoto began. She looked at him.

"I might have let slip to my mom that we snuck into your house a couple of times," Makoto said, reading her thoughts somehow.

_Well, that might explain it_, she thought, sardonically.

"We can't let them see you dressed like this," she said to him, _sotto voce_. "You wait at the foot of the stairs. I'll walk in, drink a glass of water, come out and close the door. When I do, you make a run for it. I'll stay behind in case anyone comes. Let me scout ahead first. Ah! Hold on, we should get our shoes on. I have a spare pair in my room."

On the way down, she could hear someone chopping in the kitchen. When she reached the bottom, she spotted Akira and Haruo watching TV from the kotatsu. She signaled with her back hand for Makoto to head down the stairs.

As planned, she walked past Haruo and Akira and into the kitchen where Natsuki was chopping vegetables, wearing an apron. She poured herself a cup of water from the faucet and drank it with gusto.

On the way out, she started to slide the door closed.

"Touma!" Natsuki called to her from across the room.

"Y—yes?" she asked, turning, knowing she wasn't suppressing her guilty expression properly.

"There's no need to close that door. Let the hallway have some light."

"Oh, yes, sure."

She walked out in to the hallway, pressing a hand into Makoto's newly enlarged chest to keep him from running, in case he got confused. He looked inquiringly at her.

Checkmate. Only one choice now.

She slammed the door shut with her back hand, simultaneously beginning to drag Makoto forward. She maneuvered around the staircase, eschewing the obvious door in front of the staircase to head for the door on the other side of the house. The staircase would block anyone's line-of-slight unless they stepped all the way out. She didn't stop running, or dragging a stumbling Makoto, until she had successfully closed the door behind them, ran half a block down the sidewalk, and turned a corner.

"There. I think we're safe," she said, breathing a little heavily. Makoto was outright panting at this point.

After he recovered, they began to walk. He walked a little unsteadily, carrying extra weight.

_It's been a while,_ she thought, looking at him. _Yoshino shouldn't think this is too much growth._

Gone now were the days when, walking down the street, people would point at them and whisper about what a cute couple they made. It was no longer possible to look at Touma and think her a boy. Not anymore.

She smiled at the memory. That had been immensely awkward.

_And I might as well admit it. Nothing wrong with having a large chest. No need to hide it anymore._

They stood at an intersection, waiting for the light to change.

"I still can't believe I'm doing this again," Makoto said suddenly. "Any of this."

"You know," Touma said, patting his head condescendingly, knowing he hated how much taller she was. "Kana also told me to tell you to buy a leg shaver. There's nothing there now, but soon enough—"

"One thing at a time!" he exclaimed, flustered.

Touma laughed.

* * *

Natsuki glanced around the hallway, hands grasping the doorframe. No sign of them, even though he had ran over and opened the door as fast as he could. His eyes narrowed.

_They're up to something. I can feel it._

"Is something wrong, Natsuki?" Haruo asked.

"Yeah, what was that about?" Akira added.

"No," he said. "It's nothing."

"I still don't understand," Yoshino said.

"Ugh, you're hopeless," Uchida responded.

"The last person I want to hear that from is you," Yoshino retorted drily.

"Anyway," Uchida said, ignoring her. "I'll try one more example. You know Makoto?"

"Of course I know Makoto! What about him?"

"He's a living example! Almost a perfect example of the Cup Yakisoba Phenomenon!" Uchida explained. She waved a finger in the air, trying—unsuccessfully—to convey the image of a knowledgeable instructor.

The two of them were seated facing each other next to her bed, which was—what else?—pink, as were the drapes and a rug in the middle of the floor. Uchida was seated against the bed, legs stretched out, and Yoshino was next to a desk featuring a fairly new computer, and a comfy chair for using it. The desk and bed were overloaded with stuffed animals of various sorts, particularly a certain horse with a carrot in its mouth.

"Explain," Yoshino said.

"You see, when he's Makoto, he's a baka-yaro, an idiotic kid we just happen to know, but when he's not—"

Uchida stopped mid-sentence, her face collapsing from the serious look she had carried into another look, the look she wore when she had screwed up badly and was trying to hide it.

"When he's not?" Yoshino asked. "What are you talking about?"

"No, no, I'm getting confused; that's a bad example. Let me come up with another one," she said, barely managing to recover.

She held her hands up and shook her head rapidly, unsettling her long pigtails.

"Come on, tell me what it is! I can tell you're hiding something. What's the secret?"

Yoshino shoved her insistently, wearing the same pleasant expression as always, this time with just a bit of mischief. No reason to be scared.

But something about it…

Uchida could feel sweat forming on her neck. Was it just her imagination?

"Come on!"

Yoshino pushed her again.

"That's right!" Uchida exclaimed, experiencing a sudden breakthrough. "Touma!"

"Touma?"

"That's right," Uchida said, finally regaining her poise, pulling her legs in. "Touma represents totally different things to different people. Her brothers certainly don't think of her in the same way we do."

"Isn't that everyone?"

"No, no. Listen. Chiaki thinks of her as a brother, her brothers think of her as a sister, her teammates think of her as a soccer star, and Makoto—"

She stopped. Yoshino narrowed her eyes.

_Ahh, I can't believe I slipped again! I had her! _Uchida despaired.

"Yu—" Yoshino began.

"—as a rival! And that's the essence of the Cup Yakisoba Phenomenon!" Uchida said, not giving her a chance to speak. "Different things in different situations!"

"Okay, sure, but I'm actually more interested—"

"Another example would be this apple," Uchida said, grabbing an apple from under her bed, and a stuffed wolf from on top of it. "See, to wolves—"

"I told you. I'd rather hear about Ma—"

"I don't want to talk about it. It's a secret!" Uchida finally admitted, looking away and pouting.

Yoshino watched her for a minute, then sighed, looking away.

"Alright, fine. I guess I shouldn't pry," she said, looking miffed and strangely, sad. "I thought we were best friends. You and Makoto keeping secrets from me…"

"Ah, no, it's not like that!" Uchida exclaimed, reaching out as if to stop her from leaving. "It's just that, you know, he made me promise…"

She pouted again, and did that thing where she pressed her two index fingers together. She had learnt it to be fairly effective.

Yoshino didn't move. She looked seriously hurt.

"I'm sorry, alright? Geez, it's just—" Uchida began, looking down.

"It's alright, Yuka," Yoshino said, quietly.

Yoshino leaned over, making direct eye contact and grabbing her shoulder. Uchida could feel her eyes boring into her, and feel her breath as she got closer.

Uchida couldn't break eye contact.

" I...I—" she stammered. Something about this, it was reminding her—

"That was an act," Yoshino said, interrupting her.

_What?_

Uchida looked at Yoshino again. Yoshino's expression was back to normal. Uchida thought she saw a malevolent gleam in her eyes.

She jumped up.

"Don't do that to me!" she said, pointing accusingly downward.

"I have to give you some sort of punishment for keeping secrets from me," Yoshino said, playfully stern and crossing her arms.

"Tch," was all Uchida said in response.

She crossed her arms in indignation, looking away.

After an appropriate interval, she turned back, intact on rebuking her more—but was stopped dead by Yoshino's strange, unexpected expression. It wasn't just sad; it was almost…almost melancholy.

She opened her mouth to speak, but Yoshino had noticed her looking.

"You keep apples under your bed?" Yoshino asked, rapidly obliterating her previous expression, reaching over and lifting the bedskirt to look.

"Yes," she said, sitting down on her bed, accepting the topic change. "We can't get rid of the damn things! They keep giving them to us. It's not even close to autumn anymore!"

"They're just keeping you in mind," Yoshino said, climbing onto the computer chair to maintain eye level.

"I know, but still. I mean, we feed them to the dog next door and it still doesn't get rid of it all."

"That huge dog?" Yoshino asked, leaning back and staring at the ceiling. "It eats apples?"

"It eats anything."

Yoshino stretched outward in the chair, and glanced at the alarm clock next to the bed. Noon.

"They're really late."

"I know."

The clocked ticked. Uchida lay on the bed, knees over the footboard. She couldn't stop thinking about what she had seen.

"Yoshino…" she began.

"I don't want to talk about it," Yoshino said, turning to face the window."

"But…"

She gave up, looking at Yoshino's back. The girl didn't want to talk about it.

The minutes ticked by. Her stomach rumbled, and she rubbed it. She was hungry.

Just as Yoshino was about to turn toward the computer and start browsing the web, Uchida spoke up.

"You know, I was thinking…"

"Hmm?"

"Maybe there's something to it, after all. Three consecutive years, Chiaki has gotten a new year's fortune telling her to keep her eyes open and seek in order to find romance. Practically the same one, every time! Doesn't seem so crazy now."

"You remember this?" Yoshino asked, skeptically.

Uchida propped herself up by the elbow to look at Yoshino.

"Why not? I just have good memory, is all."

"You care too much about this stuff."

"No I don't! It's perfectly normal."

And then there's the way you keep trying to imagine things," Yoshino continued, ignoring her. She ticked the list off on her fingers, swinging back and forth in the rotating chair.

"Let's see. Chiaki and that boy? That was totally wrong. Chiaki and _Fujioka-kun_? We all told you that you were crazy, but _no_, you said you had to be right. Fujioka and _Touma_? That was hilarious. Makoto and Touma? At least that one was plausible. And, the greatest irony is that you, personally, won't give any boy the time of day!"

Uchida was sitting up now, giving her a narrow-eyed look.

"Are you quite done?"

"Yes, I think that was it."

She had done that deliberately to peeve Uchida, who was making that cute aggrieved face of hers.

"So I like speculating, okay? There's nothing wrong with that," Uchida said, pushing herself up off the bed.

"Princes aren't real, Yuka. They never will be."

"I told you I'm over that!" she said, grabbing her head in frustration. "Stop talking about it!"

"Sure you are. Sure…"

"Hmmph," Uchida turned away, crossing her arms over her chest. "Coming to my house and making fun of me like that. Why don't you just go home?"

"Only Chiaki is allowed to say that," Yoshino said.

Uchida stayed silent, clearly planning to act miffed for at least another few minutes.

Yoshino frowned. She was starting to get hungry too. Where were those two?

The door opened.

"Oh, Yuka," her mother said, "A boy has come to visit you."

"What? A boy?" Uchida said, startled.

Yoshino sighed. Uchida was so easy to bait, even her own mother enjoyed doing it.

_I thought he was coming as Mako-chan! _thought Uchida. _What is she talking about?_

"Here he is!" her mother said, pushing the person forward into the doorway.

"I don't even look like a boy!" Touma insisted indignantly, head still turned back to face her accuser.

"Geez, mom, you know who she is!" Uchida yelled.

The woman simply smiled and left.

It was a running joke in the Uchida family, dating back to two years ago, when her mother really_ had _made that mistake, and had insisted on delaying Touma for fifteen minutes before letting her visit Uchida's room, using the time to ask an extensive series of questions about background and interests. Touma hadn't quite understood why, and thus didn't think to point out that the interrogation was uncalled for; instead, she blithely ate the proffered cookies and answered the questions. Uchida had been forced to intervene with:

_"Damn it, Mom! She's a girl!"_

It was only hilarious in retrospect.

But something was missing.

"Touma, I thought you were bringing Mako…chan?"

She had audibly paused just after "Mako".

_Ugh, why I do keep slipping?_

"Oh, he's here," Touma said, before turning her head to look behind the wall.

"Damn it, Mako-chan, stop hiding!"

Uchida moved a little, and could see part of his arm.

"I'm not ready for this! Give me time to—"

"You're being suspicious! Come on!"

Touma grabbed Makoto and dragged him bodily forward. He managed to avoid stumbling by grabbing onto the doorway with one hand. He carried a bag in the other.

"Ah…" he began, embarrassment spreading up his cheeks. His eyes automatically flickered between Uchida's face and his own chest.

Uchida managed to last only a few seconds before breaking out in uncontrollable laughter, bending down and clutching her sides.

Makoto's cheeks burned fiery red, and only Touma's restraining hand grabbing his jacket prevented him from bolting from the room.

"What? What is it? What's wrong?" Yoshino asked, but it only made Uchida laugh harder.

"Calm down, Uchida," Touma said, dragging Makoto forward.

"I'm sorry," she said, through tears. "It's just—"

"I know. But don't laugh at a girl like that. Think how she must feel."

Touma felt the illusion needed extra reinforcing.

Uchida managed to pull herself together, standing back up with effort.

"I would like to know what is so funny here," Yoshino demanded.

"Oh it's just—" Touma began. She visibly recoiled when she looked at Yoshino's seemingly pleasant face.

"It's just that Uchida is remembering…that time…Mako-chan accidentally tore her shirt. It looked just like this one. It was hilarious. You had to be there."

At her side, Makoto nodded decisively, composure suddenly regained.

_That's a horrible explanation, Touma_, she thought to herself.

"I see," Yoshino said blandly.

She turned to face the "girl" in question.

"It's been a long time since I've seen you, Mako-chan. It's nice seeing you again."

"Ah, you too," he responded, awkwardly.

Yoshino's eyes narrowed.

"I hope I'm not being too tactless saying so, but you've changed a lot. Particularly…"

Yoshino bent down and gazed directly at his chest, looking carefully.

Makoto swallowed, but otherwise didn't show any too obvious signs of embarrassment or fear. Touma admired his self-control.

"I—is that so?" he asked rhetorically.

Uchida made a choked noise, stifling a laugh by covering her mouth with her hands.

Yoshino stood back up, and nodded.

"Yep. I guess it's finally time. We were getting worried about you. Imagine, at your age, and even Chiaki was more developed! We didn't want to say anything, of course. But it's fine now."

"Th—thank you. That's very kind."

Uchida made another stifled noise.

Makoto, who had been avoiding looking at Yoshino, finally locked eyes with Touma. The message in his eyes was clear: "Save me, Touma!"

Touma cleared her throat, shaking herself out of the observing reverie she had lapsed into.

"Sorry we're late. We ran into some…difficulties."

She glanced around to make sure they were all paying attention.

"Anyway, what I'm thinking is, we should have lunch first, since I think we're all hungry, and we better leave before her mother starts trying to make us stay for lunch."

"Alright," Yoshino said. Makoto was visibly relaxed, and finally set down the bag he was holding, before realizing he needed to pick it back up again.

"Don't forget to grab your stuff," Uchida told Yoshino, reaching for her purse.

"Of course I won't. You're the one who forgets her stuff all the time," Yoshino commented.

Uchida stuck her tongue out.

* * *

It was Touma who chose the restaurant, a French café.

"So remember not to eat that fast," Yoshino said on the way out, raising a finger. "Not if you want to act more like a girl. It's not befitting."

"I got it already, geez! I'll remember."

"That was delicious!" Uchida exclaimed, rubbing her belly.

"I told you. That chef knows what he's doing. And Sunday is definitely the best time to go," Touma explained.

"It's cheap on Sundays? I didn't see any special discounts. Though it _was_ cheap. Well, you know, for something like this."

"Not that. It's just that my brother works there…" Touma responded, turning a corner, then losing her balance momentarily in a sudden gust of wind.

"This is some wind," she commented

"He works there Sundays?" Uchida asked, pushing against the wind, which stopped as suddenly as it began.

"No. He takes weekends off. I'm avoiding him."

There was a moment of silence as they digested that.

"Do you really hate your brother that much?" Yoshino asked, sidestepping a man loudly talking on his cell phone.

Touma glanced back at Yoshino before answering.

"I don't. I'd just rather not encounter him too much. Look, I regret bringing this up. Can we talk about something else?"

She said this quickly, to prevent anyone of them from saying anything, and picked up her pace. They matched her.

"I understand, you know," Yoshino said, a long moment later, a gust pushing her bangs across her face.

"Do you?" Touma asked, without looking back.

"Look at that!" Makoto exclaimed suddenly, pointing down the intersecting street.

They were mildly surprised; up till them, he had barely said anything, too preoccupied with his paranoia that someone would see through his disguise. Nonetheless, they stopped and looked where he was pointing.

"A grand opening of a department store," Uchida said.

"Why not go there instead?" Yoshino suggested. "I'm sure they'll have sales. And we should get indoors fast. Look at those rainclouds."

"You're right, I guess," Touma said.

They dutifully adjusted course. Touma dropped back a little, walking with Makoto for a moment. She said something, but the wind carried it away.

"What?" he asked loudly, trying to read her lips.

__gato?_

"Nevermind!" Touma said. "Listen, try to be more confident!"

She found herself yelling over a howling wind that was suddenly gone. She looked briefly flustered but Uchida and Yoshino, walking ahead, didn't seem to have reacted.

"Anyway," she said, whispering this time. "What's with you? Acting like this only makes you more obvious."

"I can't help it!" he insisted. "This just doesn't feel right."

"You'll get used to it. Just give it time."

"I don't think I want to," he muttered.

"What?"

"Nevermind."

"Ah, we're here."

They had caught up to the other two, who were standing in front of the store waiting for them. A woman standing in front handed them a flier advertising deals, and told them the teens' clothing section was on the second floor.

"Will these even be big enough for Touma?" Uchida asked skeptically as they walked in, looking at the designs.

"Probably not," Yoshino said. "Let's check the women's section first."

She peered at a map in the front of the store.

"I think it's that way," she said, pointing forward.

"Is clothing even that important?" Touma asked. "I mean, we wear uniforms most of the time anyway. It's just…how do I put this? I…don't really like buying clothes. It's sort of—"

"Getting cold feet?" Yoshino asked, stopping and turning around.

"Ah, well—"

"If you're going to ask us to help you do this, then you're just going to have to wear it!" Uchida exclaimed with a stubborn expression. "You can't turn back now! We've been looking forward to this! Come on!"

Uchida grabbed Touma by the hand and dragged her forward, running.

"Wait, what do you mean looking forward to this?" Touma asked, being pulled along.

Yoshino and Makoto watched them go off.

"How many chances do you get to completely redesign a girl from the ground up?" Yoshino asked rhetorically, answering the question. Of course, Touma was too far to hear the answer.

"I see…" Makoto said.

"To be honest, we've always thought she could stand to dress a little nicer," Yoshino added. "Come on, let's follow them."

It was awkward at first, but eventually Makoto was able to get into the rhythm of things. He helped pick out clothes and give them to Yoshino, who held them out in front of Touma so she could see them in the mirror. Uchida kept up a constant stream of soothing chatter. Even more surprising, Touma, though mostly quiet, volunteered occasional comments, showing a real effort in the process. Every once in a while, they gathered in front of the mirror to discuss the choices.

"We definitely want to go for the knee-length skirts," Yoshino said, holding one of the described objects in front of Touma.

"Yup, definitely," Makoto said, nodding.

"Explain this to me," Touma asked.

"Okay, well, you got to accentuate what features you have," Uchida said, back in the pedagogical mode she loved.

"You've got killer calves," she said, pointing down at Touma's legs. "Some guys don't like that, but you've probably lost them no matter what. The rest go wild for that. So knee-length skirts to emphasize it as much as possible."

"And to hide the muscular upper leg, which they don't like much, for some reason," Yoshino added.

"Wait, why am I dressing to impress guys?" Touma asked.

"It's just something you do, okay?" Uchida said. "Maybe it's not your thing, but it's also how other girls will judge you, which is honestly just as important."

"If you say so," Touma responded, skeptically.

Thinking about it, Makoto was surprised how quickly a new fact like that about Touma had settled so quietly into the background.

He was also proud of the clothes they had chosen.

Afterward, he excused himself to the bathroom so he wouldn't need to follow them into the fitting rooms. He had made certain he would have no real need to go, avoiding the peril of having to choose which gender of bathroom to enter; his strategy of intentionally avoiding liquids had paid off. There was a certain sense of accomplishment to it, he mused, wandering the clothing section outside the fitting rooms.

In the back of his mind, though, he knew he was only falling deeper into the trap.

After that came purses and bags, which Uchida deemed it essential to have.

"Whose bright idea was it to get the heaviest objects first?" Uchida lamented, walking down the corridor, like all them burdened with a large bag of purchased clothing.

"Well, I guess we weren't thinking too carefully," said Yoshino with an amicable smile.

Makoto glanced at the purse on his left shoulder. The thing was really too frilly to match most outfits, and he could certainly use another one—

_Agh! What am I thinking?_

"Hey, isn't that Kana?" asked Touma, pointing straight forward at a group of three girls in the distance looking at trinkets.

"Hmm, I think so," Uchida said.

They watched the other group for a long moment.

_I wonder how Riko is doing now that…things have changed_, Uchida thought.

_I wonder what Keiko's siblings are like_, Yoshino mused.

Touma watched them both zone out.

"Are we going to stand staring or are we going to do something?" Touma asked. "They're leaving! Hey! Yo!"

Touma ran forward to grab their attention, waving her hand, the others trailing her.

They met halfway in-between, next to a support column. Uchida immediately leaned on it for support, dropping her bags.

"What a surprise to meet you all here," Kana said.

She moved forward and ran her hand through Makoto's hair.

"Though I'm definitely glad to see you, Mako-chan," she said in a sweet-sounding voice he knew was filled with pure malice.

"L—likewise."

"You've changed since I last saw you," she continued, bending down and peering intently at his chest. "Doesn't she look different, girls?"

"Oh, definitely," Yoshino said.

"Oh, yes," Riko added. "Congratulations, Mako-chan."

Keiko just watched silently. Makoto could feel the sweat bead up on his neck.

"T—thanks."

"Ah, well," Kana said, straightening up. "What are you guys doing here?"

"We're shopping for clothes, of course!" Uchida said, holding up a bag.

"That's a lot of clothes," Riko pointed out.

"You're telling me…" Touma mumbled, thinking of how much of her allowance she was throwing into this.

_And I was saving that money for video games and a new pair of cleats…_

"What was that?" Riko asked.

"Nothing."

"It is spring…" Keiko mused, adjusting her glasses. "That might be a factor."

"So how are things, you two?" Yoshino asked. "Here to shop, like us?"

"Essentially," Keiko said. "I've got some new books to buy, too."

Yoshino made an appreciative noise.

"Any news, then.?" Uchida asked eagerly. "We haven't talked in a while, Riko-chan."

"Nothing you'd be interested in, unfortunately," Riko said, flipping her hair. It wasn't quite believable.

"Personally, I'm also trying to buy a mug," Kana commented, watching the unusual exchange. "But for some reason we can't find where they sell them. Have you four seen anything like that here?"

They glanced at each other and shook their heads.

"Too bad…"

"You need a new mug?" Uchida asked.

Kana shook her head.

"Not me. Haruka. Hers is chipped. She won't get a new one, to save money, but I think she deserves it, don't you?"

Makoto automatically nodded.

"She's been acting so strange lately," she continued thoughtfully. "It's not like her to drop cups like that. We thought it might cheer her up to get a new one."

"Strange…" Touma repeated, thinking back to the week.

It was true that she had been more quiet than usual. And she kept trying to talk to Touma when they were alone, then suddenly changing her mind. Touma had assumed it was because of Chiaki, but maybe…

"Hmm," she said aloud.

"What? What is it, Touma?" Kana asked, sharply inquisitive.

"No—nothing. Nothing at all," she responded quickly, if not smoothly.

"No, tell me!" Kana demanded. "I—"

Kana's eyes widened suddenly. She glanced around behind her.

"What is it, Kana?" Keiko asked.

Kana grabbed Riko's arm and looked at her watch, transparently searching for an excuse to leave.

"My, my, look at the time. We certainly need to get going."

Riko looked confused.

"Really? It's only—ah!"

Riko was cut off as Kana dragged her off by the arm, almost running into a worker sorting purses.

"Wait, Kana!" Keiko yelled.

"I'll see you all later, okay?" Kana yelled back, not stopping.

Nonplussed, Keiko excused herself and followed.

The four middle school students watched them leave.

"I wonder what that was about." Touma said.

"Fancy meeting you here," said a voice from behind her.

They turned. Touma stiffened.

"Yo," the woman said.

"Hayami-san!" Touma said, accidentally.

"Yes," she responded, looking Touma in the eye. "How are things, Touma-kun?"

"Ah, they're fine, I guess," Touma said, obviously uncomfortable.

"How are things with Chiaki-chan?"

"They're fine. Nothing to speak of."

"Good. It's good to see you two doing well. Especially…"

She seemed to be trying to imply something with her voice. She glanced around at the rest of them with a searching look, pausing just a moment longer on Makoto's face.

"Well, I guess I'll get going," she said.

With that, she, too, walked off, in the same direction Kana had. She stretched her hand out at her side, in an informal good-bye gesture.

Touma heaved a sigh of relief. The other three glanced at each other in confusion.

"Touma—" Uchida began.

"Well! Let's go look at those purses!" Touma said, rubbing her hands together. "We won't have enough time if we keep dawdling like this! Come on!"

They followed her forward uncertainly.

* * *

"Man, look at this rain," Touma said, watching the water pour down from the awning. They stood under it, just by the exit, musing about their dim prospects of avoiding the water.

The rain swirled about, constantly changing directions, twisted by the wind.

"The weather report said it would be sunny," Yoshino said, clearly annoyed that her meticulous preparations had disturbed.

"It wouldn't have mattered," Makoto said, raising one of the bags he was carrying. "That wouldn't have protected any of these from _this_."

As if to accentuate his point, a pedestrian trying to fight through the rain lost control of his umbrella, which promptly inverted itself and almost toppled him over. A collective groan sounded from the crowd of people trapped under the awning.

"Sorry, Yoshino," Uchida said. "Looks like we're going to have to rely on you again."

"It's okay. I'm sure he's happy to do it. Let me just—"

By "he", she meant her chauffeur. As he watched her dig in her bag for her cell phone, Makoto wondered, not for the first time, what it would be like to be Yoshino. No parents, but all those servants at her beck and call…

She seemed reluctant to take advantage of them, though. She acted more like they were family than people paid to serve her.

Maybe they were.

Touma just watched the rain.

"If you kids need a ride, I can give you one," said a woman standing next to them.

They turned to look at the apparent stranger with wariness. Best to decline…

Only Makoto responded instantly. It was his mother, after all.

It required a massive effort of will to do no more than recoil slightly.

Touma took a few seconds longer to realize.

"Ah! It's you! Makoto's mother!" she exclaimed, not very politely.

The woman smiled.

"Yes, it is. It was quite a coincidence seeing you here. I'm glad to see you. Come on, let's go back inside. They have a parking garage, so we don't have to step out into the rain."

As she turned to go back, bag of goods swinging around her, her eyes lingered on Makoto's face for a moment longer than it did on the others, but only for a moment. And she said nothing.

He released the breath he hadn't known he was holding. The others were caught in a confusion of half-bows and greetings, surprised by the woman's informality. Then he realized he should have bowed too.

"It's alright," Yoshino said. "You don't have to. I can have—"

"No, no. It's fine," she said, back turned. "You guys want to go back to Uchida's, right? I think that's the same direction. I don't mind. You'll have to give me directions, though."

_Why is she being so nice?_ Touma thought to herself. _If I were her, I would be the last person I'd want to talk to, much less drive home. I'm glad to see you? What did Makoto tell her?_

"By the way," the woman asked, as they walked inside. "Makoto told me he would be at Uchida's today, but I find you four out here, without him. What happened to him?"

Her voice and face were both unreadable.

"Ah, that's, well—" Uchida began, after a long pause.

"The thing is—" Touma began at the same time.

They both stopped, having interrupted each other. Makoto, of course, didn't dare say a word.

"The thing is," Touma continued. "We had lunch together, but we didn't tell him we were going shopping. We thought we could trick him that way, but he kicked up such a fuss when he found out that we just sent him back to Uchida's by himself. Geez, that guy can be such a jerk sometimes!"

_Yes, that sounds nice and plausible…it also sounds precisely like I made it up on the spot._

"But that's not—" Yoshino began, before being cut off by a sharp elbow to the side from Uchida.

"That doesn't sound like Makoto," his mother said. "He loves going shopping. But if you say so."

They stared at her a moment before following. Why was she being so passive about this?

The drive to Uchida's was done in silence.

* * *

Thankfully, she didn't ask to see Makoto in person. Instead, she just nodded and drove off.

"Later," Uchida said, when Yoshino started to ask.

Uchida's mother was quite good as a cook. This was fortunate, since they had agreed to have dinner there, partly as a matter of necessity.

"It's too bad you couldn't bring any of the Minami sisters today," she said, as the meal neared its end. "It would have been nice to pay them back for the way Yuka continually abuses their hospitality."

"I do not!" Uchida objected.

"What do you call going there practically every day over the summer? And eating every other meal there?"

"That's an exaggeration!"

"It is," Touma said, chewing a savory piece of chicken.

"Touma, what did I say?" Yoshino warned.

"Ah, sorry."

They waited until she finished chewing and swallowed.

"What she does is not even half of what I do. Natsuki sends gifts all the time, but I really don't think it's enough," she said, waving her chopsticks.

"Really?" Uchida's father asked, trying to join the conversation.

"Ah, excuse me. I should go check on something in the kitchen," Uchida's mother said.

The moment she left, Makoto pulled Touma over by the sleeve.

"I thought you said she was a horrible cook. This is delicious!" he whispered, keeping an eye on the members of the family in question.

"I never said that."

"Then why—"

A loud crash sounded from the kitchen, followed by a shriek and quite audible cursing.

"Oh, shit, shit, shit…" said the voice in the kitchen

After an awkward moment, Uchida's father started to sigh, then caught himself.

"I'm going to go help her," he said, getting up. "You four go ahead and keep eating."

"No, no, please," Yoshino said, also getting up. "We're only guests, let us help too."

Sufficiently shamed by her example, there was a rustling of clothing as the others got up also.

"No, really, it's alright—" her father began.

"Ah!" Uchida exclaimed. Touma and Makoto turned to look.

She had knocked over a bowl of soup while getting up, getting quite a bit onto her clothing.

"There, there, it's alright," Yoshino reassured, somehow already in the process of trying to wipe it up with napkins.

"We—we'll get some paper towels," Makoto said, flummoxed. He had a feeling he understood why they had wooden floors.

"After all, the acorn doesn't fall far from the tree," Touma commented a moment later, unnecessarily, finishing their earlier conversation, and grabbing a roll of paper towels from a high shelf in a closet—easier for her than Makoto.

He only nodded understandingly.

Behind them, Uchida's parents engaged in a similar cleanup operation inside the kitchen.

* * *

"So like I was telling you before, it's just not about how you dress," Yoshino lectured. "It's also about behavior. You've got a lot of it already; you can't have gone through life as girl without knowing the basics. But you have acting like a boy down near-perfect, and lately, I don't know why, you've been defaulting more and more towards that. If you want to do this, you're going to have to reverse that trend. For one thing, you should change how you speak."

Behind her, in a fresh set of clothing, Uchida nodded enthusiastically. They sat in a circle near her bed.

"Oh I can do that," Touma responded, raising the pitch of her voice and modulating how she spoke.

It was quite an impressive ability, Makoto thought. Recently, he'd been refining his own methods, to compensate for his own naturally deepening voice. It was necessary to do such things, and be damn good at it, if one wished to successfully pass as the opposite gender. It wasn't just the pitch; there were also the mannerisms of speech, how straight-forwardly you spoke, how much you spoke, and things like that. It had taken him forever, but he had finally managed to stop accidentally referring to himself with the masculine "Ore", the same one that Touma was now using on a continual basis. It was quite an accomplishment.

He shook his head at himself. He was getting carried away again. He couldn't let it become that easy, or he really would start to lose it…

"We know," Yoshino said. "But you used to only use the boyish manner of speaking around Fujioka. Now, you use it all the time. And even your non-boyish voice isn't really that feminine. Just stop forcing yourself, go back to that, and we can work from there."

"The thing is…" Touma started, looking sheepish.

"Hmm?"

"I've noticed it too. But I don't know which one is natural anymore. I used to have to force it, but now it's automatic. I actually have to work now to keep it in this more female mode."

They looked at her for moment.

"I see..." Yoshino said, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. "This might be harder than I thought."

"Well, today, we have a guest lecturer, with lots of experience in this!" Uchida said, eyes twinkling with mischief.

"We do?" Makoto asked, and then realized she was gesturing toward him.

"She does?" Yoshino asked.

"She is our _senpai_, after all," Uchida said. "Of course she would know. Isn't that right, Mako-chan-sensei?"

"Oh yeah! I keep forgetting," Yoshino said.

"Er, well, guys, that's not—" he began, but stopped, realizing he was trapped. Even Touma was watching him with interest.

"I guess I can say something," he conceded, and started collecting his thoughts.

* * *

When he finally finished, he realized it had been nearly half an hour.

Uchida started clapping slowly. He blushed in embarrassment and looked away.

"Well, I don't think I have anything more to say," Yoshino said. "You really showed us. You think you can do all the stuff he's talking about, Touma?"

"I guess," the girl said, looking uncomfortable. "It sounds hard…"

"Work hard, and you can do it!" Uchida said.

"Thanks, I guess," Touma said, unenthusiastic.

"Now for the next part," Yoshino said. "We're going to teach you how to dress. We don't appreciate your obvious policy of wearing whatever you happen to find lying around."

"It's that obvious?"

"Yes! Now come on, stand up. We're going to try on some of these shirts. Get that one off."

Uchida started coughing loudly.

Ah!" exclaimed Makoto, jumping up suddenly. "That's right! I need to…call my mother! I didn't tell her I'd be out this late. Haha."

He evacuated the area.

He really did call his mother, in the end. To not do so would have been suspicious, and he needed to waste the time somehow. He also had the feeling he needed to reaffirm that he really was at Uchida's.

Fortunately, Uchida's parents weren't around to hear him change his voice for the call.

After standing around for a while afterward, he decided it must be nearly time.

_They must be done by now, right?_

He knocked on the door.

"You guys want me to get anything before I come back in?" he asked loudly.

It was contrived, and he knew it, but that was the cue for Uchida or Touma to come up with some excuse to keep him away, if necessary.

"No, that's okay!" Uchida yelled through the door. "We're almost done."

He opened the door.

"Sorry I took so long! Man, she's such a talker—" he began, mostly for Yoshino's benefit, but stopped short.

She wore a medium-length black skirt, with white stockings up most of her calf.1 An arrowhead necklace emphasized her considered cleavage, as did the lacy black camisole and white vest. Her face was perfectly made up, her lips looked disturbingly enticing, and her new bangs framed her face in a feminine fashion that had previously been entirely absent.

Uchida and Yoshino had done a fine, if monotonic and eccentric, job.

Touma looked away from his reaction. "So, how is it?" Uchida ask slyly, her crooked smile indicating she had already deduced the answer from his reaction.

"It's great. You guys did a great job without me," he responded rapidly, not even looking in their direction.

Yoshino smiled amicably, still doing something with Touma's eyebrows.

"Give me a mirror; let me see already!" Touma demanded, apparently not for the first time.

"Alright, I guess it's time for that," Uchida agreed, walking over to pull a mirror out of her desk drawer. "Here you go."

Touma took it in hand, glanced at silvered surface—and instantly recoiled.

"I can't go out looking like that!" she said automatically.

"Come on, don't be like that!" Yoshino insisted. "Focus. How do you think it looks?"

"It looks…"

Touma stared at the mirror for a long moment.

"…I look really good. Attractive, I daresay."

She seemed surprised, and even rubbed at her new hair.

"See? I told you."

Uchida sighed and made a glum face.

"And to think we can't even show anyone. At school everyone wears uniforms, so the clothes are out. And no one wears makeup. Well, you should try to maintain the hair at least. The perfume is probably still a bit much though…"

Yoshino chuckled.

"It was fun though. We really went all out, didn't we?"

"Yeah…"

Touma stood up and stretched, then examined her clothes, looking down.

"Remember what we said about choosing your clothes carefully," Yoshino said. "At least on the weekends. And accessorize! Carry a purse like the rest of us. Wear the bracelet we got you. It can make all the difference."

"Hey, you think they'll even let her?" Uchida asked.

"They even let her wear pants! I think they'll let this slide. Though, Touma, skirts this week, right?"

"Obviously," Touma responded.

"How—how long do you plan to do this for?" Makoto asked, finally saying something.

"Until I'm satisfied," she responded. "Probably for this week. Maybe even into the new school year. Who knows?"

"I see…"

She idly fingered her hair. She couldn't get over how different rearranging it made her look.

"Though considering how much money I've thrown into this, I should probably wear it again at least once in a while, if only for kicks."

"Oh, come on!" Uchida said suddenly. They looked at her.

"You have to wear it more than that!" she said. "We put so much work into it! And it looks so much better than what you normally wear…"

"You really think so? But it's so much work having to think about it..."

"I agree with Uchida," Yoshino interjected. "You really sure put more thought into what you wear. We don't like talking about it, but it's…it just makes us feel bad for you, you know? Somehow? It's hard to explain."

Touma thought about that.

"It's really that big a deal?"

"Even Chiaki thinks so."

Touma's eyebrow twitched.

"I'll think about it," she said, managing to suppress any other reactions.

"Well, you know, it's not entirely true that we can't show anyone," Yoshino commented, seemingly apropos of nothing.

Touma turned to look—and found herself looking straight into the camera lens of Yoshino's phone, a resounding "click!" already working its way around through ears.

"You—" Touma began, as Uchida suppressed a laugh.

"Blackmail material," Yoshino said, matter-of-factly. "Maybe. Well, either way, Chiaki is getting a good look at this, someday. No, I'm not deleting it, don't try to argue."

Touma stood there, agape, tried to protest—and froze.

This look Yoshino was giving her…what was it? Something about her eyes…

Makoto watched her in sympathy, but was too scared of Yoshino to move.

"Do you really think—" Touma began. "I mean, I don't want—"

"Well, I think it's time to get going," Yoshino interrupted decisively, getting up. "I told Arisawa to pick me up around now, so…"

"Hey! Listen to what I'm say—" Touma began.

"No, Yoshino," Uchida said. "I need to talk you about something."

"Really?" Yoshino asked, surprised.

Touma threw up her hands in dismay, giving up.

"Yes, I, uh, let me get my parents," Uchida said. "Mako-chan, Touma. You two go on."

She gestured at them to leave as she yelled out her door. They did so, and moved aside to let her parents walk by.

"I wonder what Uchida wanted—" Makoto began.

"Hurry and change! While she keeps them distracted!" Touma said, shoving his bag into his hands and pushing him towards a bathroom. "What? You think you can change in my house again today? I told her to do this!"

"Okay, I get it, stop pushing so hard, I can— "

He was cut off by the closing bathroom door.

As they had before, when he finished, they rushed out the door as fast as they could. This time they ran with heavy bags of clothing, and thus stopped only a half-block away.

"I don't know how much longer I can keep doing this," Makoto said, breathing heavily, now dressed in gender-appropriate clothing.

"We'll keep it going somehow," Touma reassured. "We all have your backs."

He said nothing.

They stood in the halo of a streetlight.

She stretched, bags in hand, arms above her head, before suddenly pulling them back in, huddling in the wind, which Makoto couldn't help notice squeezed her chest outward.

"Damn, these clothes are cold!"

The wind carried an alluring scent to his nostrils. Interesting, flowery—

He shook his head. The perfume reminded him of what he wanted to ask.

"Touma," he said.

"Yes?" she asked, already walking forward.

"Honestly, I agreed to all this because I didn't know how to argue with you. I still don't understand what this all about. Why are we doing this?"

She looked back at him, new bangs framing her face.

"Let's walk home today," she said, after a moment.

"Really? At this time? These bags are heavy…"

"You want to talk, right? Walking will give us plenty of time."

It really would. It was not a trivial walk, and they were carrying everything they had bought for Touma today.

He looked up. It looked like the rain had passed.

He sighed.

"Alright," he consented.

They brushed past the bus stop, ignoring the bus which conveniently arrived just as they did.

"So?" Makoto asked, what seemed like a full five minutes later. They were entering a particularly lonely stretch of the walk, bounded by a wall on one side and the street on the other. The streetlights grew sparse, and only the occasional car zipped by, their bright eyes tearing open the darkness. His mother would kill him if she knew he was out here at a time like this.

Of course, compared to everything else he was doing she should kill him for, this was a drop of water compared to the ocean.

"Sorry," Touma apologized, after a moment. "I'm just not used to answering questions that are so personal. It's just…"

She stopped suddenly. Makoto almost ran into her, and had to grab her shoulder. It triggered memories.

She ignored the collision. Instead she simply turned her head. Again, he was aware of the different type of presence she now conveyed, from the hair to the perfume that nagged at his perceptions.

"Why don't you go first?"

"First? About what?" he asked, backing off.

"Why you like Chiaki. I'd like to know my competition, I guess."

She shrugged, and smiled slightly, visible by starlight. He stared for a moment.

"It feels so strange just saying it like that…" she added as an afterthought.

"Why should I go first?" he asked, finally. "I asked you first!"

"Well, aren't you supposed to show a girl courtesy? I feel uncomfortable talking about it, and it would make it easier if you went first. Please."

Her face showed she was aware of the slight absurdity of what she was saying. Makoto realized, suddenly, that the act was already on, that she was already changing how she behaved.

_To go with the clothes, I guess. And to gain an argumentative advantage…_

"It's not as simple as you saw her one day and fell in love, is it? Would that kind of love survive all she's done to you? Or maybe you like that kind of—"

"What's wrong with simple?" he demanded.

"Nothing! It worked for Fujioka, after all. I just don't think that—"

"No, of course it's not that simple!" he said angrily.

The silence settled over them. He realized he had already started.

"Let's keep walking," he said, gesturing to Touma to follow him. "We have plenty of time. We'll never make it back if we keep standing around."

She nodded, and followed.

He walked for a long while in silence, so long that she wondered if he would speak at all, their previous positions exactly reversed.

She started to say something—

"You know, I wonder sometimes if I am crazy," he mused aloud, shifting bags between hands to redistribute the weight.

"Crazy?" Touma asked, momentarily confused. But then she thought of a possible reason. She smiled knowingly to herself in the darkness.

"Well," she continued. "I can understand why you might think that. She doesn't exactly treat you well. But you were right that she must have a soft spot for idiots, since you've certainly demonstrated it."

"Thanks for the compliment," Makoto muttered.

"Anyway, if you think you're crazy, imagine how I feel? You're not the one trying to break established—"

"It's not about that," he said, stopping and turning around. Even under only the starlight, his expression looked extremely focused. Touma wasn't sure she had seen it before.

Her interest was now heightened even more. She forgot the weight on her arms.

After a moment, he made the effort to turn around and keep walking. It was all too natural to stop and face her while talking, but he didn't want them to get bogged down in this long walk.

"Have you ever felt it, Touma?" he asked. "Have you ever felt how sad she really is?"

Touma thought for a moment, taken aback.

"Sad? You mean, Chiaki?"

He looked back for a moment and nodded. They were entering a better lighted stretch near a park and residential area.

"No, I can't say I have," she said, looking down to avoid his eyes. "Why would you think that?"

He looked forward again and sighed.

"You know, she smiles when she plays with you guys. She smiles around Haruka. But the rest of the time, she hardly ever does."

"Well, that's just Chiaki," Touma said, thinking carefully over his words. He probably _was_ crazy, but…

"Is it?" he continued. "I don't think so."

"That's—"

"I wasn't sure if I should believe what I was seeing," he said quickly, trying to get the words out. "I mean, I was almost certain I was imagining things for a while. No one else seemed to have any idea. I thought I was crazy."

"Are you sure—"

"Yes, I'm sure!" he said, managing not to turn around, managing to keep walking. "I'm even surer now!"

There was a surprising amount of emotion in his voice, and Touma didn't know how to respond.

"At first, I thought it was because of Mako-chan. When I was Makoto, she acted like she hated me. When I was Mako-chan, she loved having me around. I didn't do a thing different! Why? Was it because I was a boy? That's what I thought at first, but I know that's wrong, now. I've gone through theory after theory, and they all turn out wrong. Except one."

The words came out in a torrent, full-force, except for the minute pause near the end. Touma shifted uncomfortably.

"Well, that's because…" she began hesitantly, before trailing off.

"You begin to see, don't you? You can't say it was because she was afraid I would fall in love with her, because then she would have rejected me out of hand!"

Touma nodded once, stiffly.

Makoto took a few deep breaths, and continued.

"When she reacted the way she did to our confessions, it only made me more sure. After I saw her face, I hated myself so much for bringing this down on her. But I couldn't stand it anymore! I wanted to do something!"

Another deep breath.

"I didn't want to believe it, but part of me knew it would happen. Do you remember what I asked you? I asked you if you knew why she treated me the way she did. I was hoping you would give a different answer, that you would have some other reason. Of course you didn't even know what I was talking about."

Touma heard a tinge of sourness in that last line.

Touma thought back to that day, to the look of utter, inexplicable ruination they had saw on Chiaki's face.

"I fell in love, if it can be called that, a long time ago," he continued, after another pause. "I didn't know what it was at the time, of course. I just knew there was this girl in class who looked pretty, who I had absolutely had to talk to, who I had be friends with."

Makoto remembered a much younger Chiaki, a new transfer student, already with the long hair down her back, watching the board with a determined expression. Remembered his own momentary slack-jawed expression.

"But I couldn't," he continued. "I tried so hard. Sure I could talk to her, and she would talk back. But friends? Never. I did everything I knew how to do. Invented games, made fun of her on the playground, and she never took the bait, just ignored me and called me 'baka-yaro'. Over and over, and I thought it really was because I was an idiot."

Touma knew she had nothing to contribute to this one-sided conversation.

"But it wasn't that, of course," he said. "Soon I saw that she accepted Uchida, even though she's hardly better than me! It confused me. But I soon began to notice. You can't watch her constantly, for as long as I have, without noticing! Have you ever watched her in class, writing in her notebook? The expression she wears, writing in her diary? What her face looks like when she thinks no one is watching?"

Touma's mouth was dry. She had noticed; she had just never thought about it. That one time Touma surprised Chiaki in the kitchen. The expressions Chiaki wore sometimes around Fujioka. The sad look Chiaki had had, digging through a picture album in a cabinet. The fear on her face when Touma had stumbled upon her diary, not knowing what it was, opening it to a random page.

"Soon, I began to see, even though I didn't want to. Mako-chan was just more evidence. She accepted _you_ as a little brother, precisely because you wouldn't normally qualify!"

Touma felt the bite of that and realized that, yes, she had only gotten so close to Chiaki because she was female.

"I saw that no matter what I did, she would never accept me. Something was wrong with her, something that made her…"

Makoto stopped, finally losing momentum, if only for moment.

"So I was stupid," he continued, starting again. "Finally, I got to visit her house, and meet her sisters. I met Haruka, and I was entranced. She was just as beautiful as Chiaki; more so, because she was what Chiaki will look like, someday. I would never win her love, of course, but at least I could feel the warmth of kindness. I thought it would be enough."

"It was nonsense, of course. Every moment I was there, every time I saw Chiaki, I felt it. I felt how sad she was, the anguish that was there. And I—I—"

He finally stopped walking. Touma sucked in a breath.

"I couldn't stand it!" he screamed, turning around. "I couldn't stand it! It was like a knife to my heart, every single second! It hurt so damn much! I just—I couldn't—it just—"

By this point, he was grabbing Touma by the shoulders, panting heavily, tears in his eyes.

"I couldn't bear it. I just couldn't. So I—I decided I would take it head on. I would convince her to take me, somehow. I would find out what was wrong. I would make her happy, somehow. It sounded so impossible, even to me, but I couldn't live with myself without trying."

He started openly sobbing.

Touma didn't want to know what her face looked like. Shocked, of course. She had not had any inkling what she was stepping into, when she asked him to explain his love.

She hesitated only a moment before performing the natural action.

She pulled him in. It was awkward, given his shorter height, but she didn't know what else to do.

"Touma—" he said, surprised.

"There's no one around to see us, alright?" she said, blushing despite her words. "So we can get away with this. Hey, come on, don't cry. There's a bench. Let's sit down."

The bench next to them, under a street lamp, was very conveniently placed indeed. They staggered awkwardly towards it, setting the bags down.

Still sniffling, he leaned against her.

"It—it's so sad, you know?" he said. "You're my best friend. More than any of the guys in the class. It's so strange."

She just stroked his head soothingly.

"I wanted so badly to tell you, and I almost did, but I never thought…I didn't think I could, not after…"

Her hand caught on something. She looked down.

It was strange seeing him like this. Energetic and behaving like an idiot, she saw all the time. Weak, vulnerable and crying—she had never seen that. It was strange, and it felt strange.

And he had forgotten to take off his hairclip.

She pulled it off and handed it to him.

"Ah…Thanks," he said, grabbing it and sitting. "I—I don't know how I missed it."

"You've got to be more careful. That's the kind of thing that could give everything away."

"I know," he said, thumbing it in his hands.

She looked up at the streetlamp. Perhaps it was time to try a little levity.

"Man, I knew you were like a girl," she said. "But I had no idea you'd gone this far."

"Shut up," he said, but poutingly.

The tension dissipated slightly.

"I had thought there was more to it," she said. "That it wasn't just a simple matter of falling in love with a girl, but I never thought…"

He just sniffled in response.

She looked around to get her bearings. They were actually pretty close to his house by now, only a few more blocks.

"Anyway, you promised," he said, looking her straight in the eye.

"Hmm? What?"

"Tell me about you!" he demanded. "That's the only reason I agreed to start talking about this."

"Ah, well," she began, evasively.

"Give me a moment," she said, swallowing.

She looked up, at the sky whose rainclouds were now almost entirely dissipated. The stars here were nothing like what they were in the countryside, of course, but the scene was familiar nonetheless. The trees were finally starting to bloom.

She brought her head back down and leaned back onto the bench, arms spread out.

"I wish my story were as emotional as yours, or as selfless, but…"

He waited, while she compiled what she needed to say.

"Well, I guess I start at the beginning. The thing is…I never had many friends."

"That seems hard to believe," he said, tilting his head to look at her face framed between her new bangs.

_Really? Her? And what does this have to do with anything?_

She glanced at him.

He wonder privately what this had to do with anything.

"I don't know what you're thinking, but it's true. Actually, it's not. I understate the case. I didn't have _any_."

"Really? Why?" Makoto asked, with genuine surprise.

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, reminding herself who he was.

"You probably wouldn't understand," she said, with a half-shrug of apology. "Not with the way you are. But I never really fit in. I was raised by my brothers, you know?"

She looked at her hands.

"Don't get me wrong. It was fun hanging out with them. Playing video games, getting in fights, watching stupid TV shows. The house was a mess and the food sucked, but who cared? Times were good."

She breathed outward, wondering if it was cold enough for her breath to condense. It wasn't. She had avoided complaining about it much, but these were not the right clothes for this weather.

Well, she had brought it on herself. She leaned on her bare knees, curling up a little.

"It sounds stupid to say this…they didn't really prepare me, if that makes sense. I remember being so excited for my first day of school. I showed up carrying my shounen manga, so excited to discuss the latest installment of that robot show with all my new friends…and no one cared. The girls spent their time watching different shows, gossiping about the other girls, wondering about how to wear their hair. They weren't really interested in soccer or robots."

"They weren't mean or anything," she added. "I just couldn't fit in, no matter how hard I tried, not even if I stopped following my brothers, tried to think about different things. In the end, I realized I just couldn't _care_. I didn't care about any of that stuff."

She didn't wait for Makoto to say anything. Might as well continue this narrative all in one rush.

"Then I tried talking to the boys, but that didn't work any better. I don't why, but they just wouldn't take me. They made fun of me, made fun of the fact that I couldn't run as fast, that I couldn't kick the ball as far. It sucked, honestly."

The memory struck Makoto in a sudden flash. He remembered the quiet girl that kept trying to join their games. The one his friends had teased mercilessly for, essentially, being a girl. He had felt sorry for her, had even tried to stand up for her once, but honestly, he had joined in on it.

One day she had simply stopped coming.

That was _Touma_?

He felt like the worst kind of jerk.

She smiled wanly, looking at him.

"Just listen to me. I'm complaining about shit that happened in first grade. I must sound so stupid."

"It's not stupid!" Makoto exclaimed spontaneously.

Touma blinked at him surprisingly.

"I mean…I've been obsessing over Chiaki since second grade, so something like that isn't stupid at all!" he said, trying to back up his impromptu statement.

She kept blinking.

"Please continue!" he added.

_Thank you,_ she thought.

But she couldn't say it.

"Well, stupid or not," she said, finally. "I never really figured it out. At first, I was depressed. I remember my brothers trying to take me out, give me ice cream, and nothing worked. Finally, they gave up. I—"

She closed her eyes, losing the words.

"Anyway," she continued, after a moment, embarrassed to be relating this. "Eventually, I started to get angry. I told myself, if no one will accept me as a girl, then I'll just act as a boy. I'll be better than all of you. I'll be the best soccer player in Japan. I'll show everyone, I said. You know how it is. It's like every cliché manga ever written, but that's what I told myself. It was my motivation. You—you have no idea how hard I worked for it."

She thought back to all those painful practices, long hours spent practicing footwork alone, nothing else to do, no one else to talk to, driven by nothing but anger, and determination. Unconsciously, she clenched her hands and for just a moment, Makoto could see everything on her face.

"Honestly, I was a little confused." she admitted, finally, shaking her head, her hands unclenching. "It wasn't a good reason to set such a goal."

The embarrassment returned.

"I had such nonsense ideas. I also wanted to be a delinquent. For some reason it sounded cool. You can't really be a soccer player and a delinquent at the same time, but it seemed to make sense at the time. And really, there was Natsuki. I guess I wanted to be like him. I started picking fights with people just because I could. I wanted to so badly, it was…"

She stared forward into the darkness, with a strange expression, as if she couldn't believe what she was saying, what kind of person she had once been.

Makoto had listened to her story with a mixture of incredulity and astonishment. The content was so terrible, so confused, but she was delivering it so sterilely, it boggled him. She was showing emotion, sure, but it was almost as if she was talking about someone else entirely.

He wondered how hard she had tried to forget.

"But Touma" he said, against his better judgment. "I remember seeing you. I remember the boys talking about you, the way you always had a crowd of people trying to talk to you. How could you not have any _friends_?"

Touma wore a pained expression.

"By that point, I didn't want any. Sure, they all came to talk to me now, now that I was the school's best soccer player, the school's best runner. I thought it was fake affection. I didn't want it."

"But that's—"

"Stupid, I know."

Touma looked up.

"Look, there's a reason I'm telling you this. I think you might have guessed it already. Do you have an idea now, how it felt when I first met Chiaki? How it felt to have someone walk up to me, declare me her little brother, ignore my insults, and drag me home? How confused I was? I couldn't fight her. Something was stopping me."

"It took me a while," she continued, "but after she introduced me to Uchida, to Yoshino, to Fujioka, to _you_, I realized that I didn't have it any more. I was _happy_, do you understand? I wasn't angry any more. Chiaki was…pretty much my savior."

Makoto nodded.

"She always has been," she said, looking wistful. "I couldn't believe it was true, at first. I lied to Fujioka, for _years_, about who I was, because I was afraid he wouldn't accept me. But in the end, she saved me there, too."

Touma continued to avoid his eyes.

"So when I started to feel strangely attracted to her, when I started feeling uncomfortable during our wrestling matches, when she _k_—"

She stopped herself just in time, coughing. Makoto looked at her in confusion at the sudden stop. She managed to continue without missing more than a beat.

"When I started wanting to do unaccountable things to her, can you blame me if I wasn't sure what I was thinking? And the way she reacted, I was certain that must be wrong too."

She shook her head.

"Haruka's explanation only made it more confusing.2 According to her, what I was thinking was completely wrong."

She looked down again.

"It didn't make any sense. I decided that it must be how grateful I felt to Chiaki, that the emotions were mixing somehow. I waited for it to go away. I waited, and I waited…"

"But of course…" Makoto said, following the train of thought.

"It never did."

She thought about how to explain it.

"I—when you look at Chiaki, at Haruka, the shameful look you try to suppress, I know exactly what you're doing. I see it every time, because I do it just as often. I find you more attractive as _Mako-chan_ than right now, do you know that?"

She pinned him with a look, and he looked away. Of course, he had known this must be true, but to hear it put so bluntly…

"I wanted to say nothing," she said. "I was grateful to her, you understand. Throwing something like this on her, because of my feelings, would be the height of selfishness. Even if she didn't recoil from my touches, even if I was certain that she felt the same way I did, I couldn't burden her with it. But in the end I couldn't stand it."

Makoto looked about to say something. She didn't let him.

"I only have one more thing to test," she asserted, leaning forward. He looked at her with an inquiring look.

"For most of my life, I have been pretending to be male. Acting like one, dressing like one, even after I stop trying to hide my breasts, I have become essentially a man. Can you deny that?"

Makoto hastily shook his head no.

"So I need to make sure. Make sure it's not something about the way I act. I need to have the same feelings while dressing as a girl, acting as a girl. I need Chiaki to accept me, to react the same way, regardless of how I am dressed. Then it would be undeniable."

Makoto looked at her with surprise. He had been following her reasoning up until now, but this was—

"But Touma," he began. "I don't think that—"

"I know. _I know_," she said. "It's nonsense to think a simple change of clothes and behavior would change anything. But think about my position. Think about what it would be like, if everyone in school knew the truth, if my brothers knew the truth. I have to be _absolutely sure_."

Makoto nodded, after a moment.

They sat in silence, chewing over all that had been said.

_I have to do this_, Touma thought, bracing herself.

"And that's also why I think Chiaki needs to know about Mako-chan," she said, suddenly.

What?" Makoto asked, almost involuntarily. He turned his head, looking at Touma.

"Makoto. You keep telling me that the only reason you cross-dress is because it gets you into Chiaki's house. But that reason is gone now. You can go there as yourself. When I asked you to come as Mako-chan today, you had every right to refuse. But you didn't."

Makoto opened his mouth to provide a rebuttal, but Touma kept talking.

"I want to see you put your money where your mouth is. Can you kill Mako-chan forever? I don't mean simply stop dressing up. Then, you will always have an excuse. Today, Chiaki has invited Mako-chan to a party. Today, Haruka wants Mako-chan to join us for dinner. Weak, weak excuses, but you will have them. I need to see you bury Mako-chan six feet below, and then I will believe you. And then you will believe yourself. Because you certainly don't believe it now."

While saying this, Touma had leaned further and further over towards Makoto, getting in his face and forcing him back.

"That's hardly fair," he said, sweating. "Telling Chiaki something like that might lose me her forever. How do I know you're not trying to trick me?"

"I promise to do my best to protect you, and stand up for you," she said. "But you know that's an excuse. If you don't do this, then there will forever be a nagging doubt in your mind. You will never be sure you aren't the kind of guy who really enjoys…being Mako-chan. You shouldn't live with that kind of uncertainty. And besides, do you really want to keep a secret like that forever? Know that you've lied to Chiaki for the rest of your life?"

"But still—"

"Think about it," she said, sitting back up.

She watched the anguish on Makoto's face for a moment, knew she had pushed the right buttons.

"I'll do it" he said, finally, barely audible.

"What's that?"

"I'll do it!" he yelled, almost screaming it at back at her. "You're—you're right. I can't go on forever having lied to her. But—but it has nothing to do with the other thing!"

"Keep on telling yourself that."

The stars twinkled overhead, and Touma decide to watch them.

_It really is for the better_, Touma thought to herself. _Chiaki won't be too mad. I know her. I don't want him to keep lying to himself._

Despite the effort she had put into coercing Makoto into doing it, and that she had put into convincing herself, Touma still wasn't sure it was the right decision.

_I hope it's worth it._

"We should go," she said.

* * *

They had committed a critical error. They got to Makoto's house first, as they expected, but as he headed for the door, they realized that it was impossible to give everything to Touma in such a manner as to enable her to carry it the rest of the way home, even if she took the bus.

Makoto offered to go the rest of the way, but the problem was solved by Makoto's mother showing up at the door and offering to drive her.

"Sorry for troubling you again," Touma said, wafter the woman walked her up to her doorway.

"Oh, it's no trouble," she said, swinging her keys. "I figure I should know where you live anyway."

"Really?" Touma asked.

"I hope to see you again," she said.

"Ah, you too," Touma said, confused by the rapid subject changes.

"You okay with all that stuff?"

"Ah, yes. I can carry it inside myself."

It was only after she drove off that Touma released the breath she had been holding. Something about the woman unnerved her.

Touma paused before opening the door to enter.

_Well, I knew they would have to see me sooner or later, _she thought, steeling herself.

"I'm back!" she announced, stowing the bags as a giant pile by the doorway. Her brothers sat under the kotatsu in the main room.

"Oh, welcome back," Natsuki said, not looking up from his magazine. His forehead clenched slightly and Touma could tell he wasn't really reading, but fortunately he didn't decide to grill her about earlier. "That Fujioka kid called; he wants to talk to you. Don't know why."

"I see."

It was Akira, looking up from TV watching, who first choked on the milk he was drinking, accidentally spraying Natsuki and his magazines with milk.

"Akira!" Natsuki complained, looking up. "What the hell—urk!"

Natsuki wasn't drinking anything; instead, he choked on his own words. Haruo just watched open-mouthed.

_Act natural, _Touma thought to herself. _Don't let them question you._

"Ah, I could use some milk too," she said, perhaps overdoing it just a tad. "I'm thirsty."

She walked into the kitchen and pulled open the fridge. She took it out, drinking straight from the carton, forgetting already the words of Yoshino.

Natsuki finally stirred, realizing he needed to say something.

He didn't say the right thing, however.

"Damn it, Touma! How many times have I told you not to drink from the carton?"

He walked to her side, looming over even Touma's unusual height.

"Aw, geez, you're so annoying!" she said. "Haruka's gotten to you again, hasn't she?'

"All I ask is that you stop—"

"Shut up already!"

Overly focused on acting like her normal garrulous self, Touma did something she hadn't done for a very long time.

She tensed herself and jumped straight up, putting all her considerable power into a headbutt.

The collision was quite loud.

Natsuki reeled back, fazed. This, at least, was an improvement from the past, when she couldn't even move him.

Touma, however, clutched her head, leaning against the counter.

"Damn it, I've got to stop doing that. Ah, I've messed up my hair too! And we spent so long on it…"

Her voice trailed off as she walked off, still grabbing her head, preparing to go upstairs.

"I'm taking a shower," she said, privately thinking about the new shampoo she was supposed to use. She leaned down to pick up most of the bags to drag upstairs, careful not to mess up the skirt she was wearing.

"Hey! Touma!" Natsuki said, recovering. "What kind of disrespect is that? I—"

"Ah, just shut up already!" Touma responded, followed by an awkward sprint up the stairs.

Natsuki just stood there for a moment.

"Wow," Akira commented belatedly. "I never thought I'd live to see this day."

"She's finally growing up," Haruo said, closing his eyes and looking quite pleased. "She's finally becoming the girl we all imagined."

They all paused a moment to continue the situation.

"See, I told you," Haruo continued, gesturing up at Natsuki. "I told you there was nothing to worry about."

"It's not quite that simple," Natsuki growled, walking towards the sliding door. "I'm going after her. We—"

The phone next to him rang. They glanced at each other. No one moved.

Natsuki sighed.

_Damn it; catch a hint already, you lazy bastards! I need to be upstairs!_

He picked up the phone anyway.

"What?" he asked, forgetting his social conventions.

"Oh, hi, Natsuki!" said the voice on the phone, completely ignoring his rudeness.

"Hello, Hitomi," he responded blandly.

Horrible timing as always, but he had a long-standing policy of trying to treat her with courtesy, even if nowadays she only talked about frivolous nonsense.

"So…how are things?" she asked.

"They're good," he responded, not sure how to properly end this conversation.

_Damn, what a fine time for one of her strange phone calls_, he thought.

"But I need to—" he began.

"—get off the phone, right? This isn't a good time to call?"

Even after five years, it still creeped him out how she could do that. She claimed to be able to read his eyes, too.

"No, no it isn't," he admitted.

"I'll call back later," she said, and hung up, not wasting his time with farewells.

He stared at the phone for moment.

_That girl…_

Above him, the water pipes in the ceiling gurgled to life. She was already in the shower.

Even he wasn't going to barge in on his sister taking a shower, no matter the situation.

He sat down under the kotatsu with a thump, unhappy.

"That girl again, Natsuki?" Akira asked.

"Look how often she calls you!" Haruo said, gesturing with his newspaper. "I don't know why you don't give her a chance. Not like you have anything else going on."

"For the last time, she's not interested in me, okay?" he said, exasperated.

"If you say so," Haruo said, picking up his teacup, clearly skeptical.

He didn't know why everyone he met thought so. Even Haruka thought so.

_I'm getting distracted, _he thought.

Hitomi had said something once about Touma. She had given him advice. What had she said?

He thought back…

_Minami Natsuki, the feared delinquent of the middle school._

"_Damn it! Go away already! You're annoying!" he said, to the girl who wouldn't stop following him. The others in the hallway turned to stare._

"_I refuse!" she said. "If you want me to go away so bad, why don't you punch me away like you do everyone else?"_

"_You know I don't hit girls!"_

"_You couldn't hit me if you tried!" she said, sticking out her tongue. "Your eyes give you away!"_

Her name was Hitomi, he had learned, and she had been the only person during middle school willing to put up with him. It hadn't been long before she found his weak point.

"_So you really care about your sister, huh?" she asked, looking at him. She took a bite out of her sandwich, swinging her legs under the bench._

"_I guess. It's like ever since she started school she doesn't want to talk us. We tried asking her, but she just shuts herself up in her room."_

"_You're worried, aren't you?"_

"_That bastard Haruo is worthless," he said, without bothering to answer her question. "He keeps saying it's just a phase, she'll get over it. The guy doesn't know what he's doing."_

"_Is that why you act like this? Trying to fight everyone you meet? You're unhappy with how he raised you? Not everyone is cut out to raise kids."_

How annoying, _he thought._

"_I don't want to talk about this."_

He thought about the way she had forced him through school, when Haruo wouldn't do the duty.

"_What the hell are you doing?" The voice blared at him through the phone. "You haven't been to school in four days! I know you're not sick!"_

"_Look, I told you, it's my business only whether I—"_

"_No, it's not! What kind of example are you setting for your sister, huh? Do you want me to come over there and tell them everything about you? What you've been doing? Is that what you want?" _

Or that time when…

"_You see that girl?" Hitomi said, pointing down the hallway, the two of them crouched behind a corner. That's Minami Haruka-senpai. She's the Banchou I've been telling you about."_

_He just stared for a moment. She looked interesting…_

"_Hello? You there, Natsuki?"_

_She waved a hand in his face._

"_Ah, well, uh…she doesn't look like a Banchou. At all."_

"_Even so," she said, nodding. "They say she's quite fearsome."_

_Natsuki stood up._

"_I told you I'm not interested in things like that. I have no desire to rule over this school. I only want to be left alone."_

"_Hmph. Too bad."_

He drank his tea, lost in memory.

"_Nice to meet you!" the girl with the bright face said. "I'm Hiroko! I'm in one of your classes."_

_She stuck out her hand, clearly expecting him to shake it._

_He did so, warily._

"_You're the school delinquent, aren't you? You're a prime candidate for the position, now that Haruka-senpai is gone! Especially since grouchy girl here won't take it."_

_She gave a look at the girl next to her, who looked away haughtily._

_After a moment, Natsuki turned around, facing the girl behind him._

"_You told me this girl had a rare copy of a video game to sell me!"_

_Hitomi shrugged._

"_So I lied," she said, before sticking out her tongue at him._

"_Why, you—"_

_It was basically a game he and Hitomi played. He knew she could easily dodge all his punches, somehow, so he felt free not to hold back on launching them at her._

_After he had exhausted himself expressing his unhappiness, Hitomi just turned toward the judges, Hiroko and Yuu, who for once didn't look bored. Quite engaged, in fact. They clapped in awe._

"_How was it?" Hitomi asked. "Isn't he fearsome?"_

"_Oh definitely," Hiroko said. "With that kind of performance, of course you qualify!"_

"_I agree!" Yuu added. "Man, this Banchou thing might actually mean something, for once. Let me arm wrestle you, okay?"_

"_What?" Natsuki asked, before understanding a moment later. _

"_Look, I don't want to be your Banchou, okay?" he began. "I—"_

"_Not you!" Hiroko said, walking right by him. "Her!"_

_She raised Hitomi's arm in a gesture of victory, smiling inanely._

"_We don't even need to see the other candidates! With these kinds of fighting skills, Hitomi is definitely the one we're looking for! Isn't that right, Hitomi-Banchou?"_

"_What?" Hitomi asked, confused for once._

And then in high school…

_The senpai easily caught his fist and stopped his punch. He easily stopped his other fist as well._

"_Want to play volleyball?" he asked, ignoring Natsuki's attempted violence._

"_What? What kind of nonsense is this? This is why you're annoying me?"_

"_I was told that you would be interested," the older boy said, locking Natsuki's fists in place but not changing his manner of speech. "She also told me about your situation. I can help you turn your grades, your reputation, your entire life around, if you promise to join the Volleyball Club."_

"_WHAT? Who was this?" he asked, already knowing._

"_That's not important," the senpai said. "Think about it, I'll give you time."_

_He let go of Natsuki's fists, handed him a recruitment flier, and walked away._

The truly unbelievable thing was: Hosaka had really done so, when Natsuki finally agreed to it. The man may seem eccentric, but he wasn't all words. Not at all.

_They were standing on the rooftop of one of the buildings. He held out the flier for Hitomi to see._

"_What is the meaning of this?" he demanded. _

_She didn't need to see it to know what he was talking about._

"_I'd heard from others that Hosaka-senpai is good for things like this," she said airily. "He's already reformed several like you."_

"_That's not the point and you know it!" he said angrily, throwing a punch. She dodged._

"_I heard Touma got into another fight today. That's five so far. She's been suspended several times. She's also missing school."_

_She continued to ignore his attitude._

"_What does that have to do with anything?" he asked. "How do you even know this?"_

_She surprised him by catching one of his punches._

"_What, you ask?" she said, surprising him by showing anger. "Can't you see? She's becoming like you! Didn't you tell me you wanted her to grow up normal? Didn't you say you hated how she was turning out? Why aren't you doing anything? She looks up to you! How can you do this to her?"_

"_It's not my—"_

_She caught his other fist._

"_Of course it's your business! You're the one whose example she's following! You're the one who skips school and plays video games with her, and who fights with everyone he sees! So Haruo is too busy earning money to be around much. So he's horrible at raising her. So he can't cook. Why aren't YOU there? What are YOU doing? You have the same responsibilities as a brother as he does. How does any of this stuff excuse YOU?"_

His eyes snapped open.

After that day, he had never thrown a fake punch at her again.

"Oh, Natsuki," Haruo said, in the process of waving his hand in front of Natsuki's face. "I'm glad we finally got your attention. What were you—"

Natsuki slammed the table with his fist, silencing them. He knew what his face looked like at that moment.

"I'm calling an emergency meeting. Tomorrow, after school, when Touma's not here."

"Why shouldn't Touma be here?" Akira asked, after a moment. "After all—"

"Because it's about her, you idiot! We must have a meeting."

"Natsuki," Haruo said. "Don't you think you're overreacting a bit? After all, we both have work and—"

Natsuki slammed the table again.

"Take the day off," he growled.

"Y—yes," Haruo said, no longer arguing.

Natsuki would not let things get out of hand again.

1 Zettai Ryoukai.

2 Advice Seven.


	7. Uncertainty

Author's note: And now in record time, chapter 7.

Not as exciting as chapter 6, sorry, but necessary groundwork-laying.

Also, I like my dream sequences. Sue me. (Updated 9/17/2011)

* * *

"_Hurry up, Chiaki! Why are you taking so long?" Touma yelled at her._

"_Have some patience, Baka-yaro!"_

"_If you take any longer, the water will get warm!" Makoto yelled._

"_I got it already!"_

_She balanced precariously on the diving board, looking down at the pool. Below and in front of her, Uchida and Yoshino waved vigorously at her._

Something was wrong…

_She took a deep breath and sprung upward into the air, performing an impossible corkscrew._

_The world spun around her._

_She spent impossibly long under the water._

"_Get up already!" a garbled voice told her._

_When she surfaced again, those around her clapped. Fujioka smiled at her._

"_Bravo!" Kana added, grabbing her by the shoulders. "Aren't you glad I finally taught you to swim?"_

"_No, you didn't! All you did was impede me!"_

_Kana shook her head, tied up hair flinging water._

Ah! _Chiaki thought to herself, suddenly realizing._

That's right! I never did learn how to swim. Then how did I…

_She realized her situation, but the fact that she was dreaming seemed unimportant somehow. The knowledge receded…_

_There was still something wrong…_

"_I don't know why you were always so afraid of the water," Uchida said, suddenly._

_Uchida was right. There was nothing to be afraid of. The water was cold, refreshing, inviting. And swimming was easy._

_Or so it seemed. She seemed to glide through the water without any effort._

_A sudden weight slammed into her back, forcing her head down into the water._

"_Yo!" Touma announced, arms wrapping her from behind._

"_Get off of me, you bastard!" Chiaki said, somehow ignoring the water._

"_Not a chance!" Mako-chan yelled, appearing in front of her, spraying her with a hose she had acquired from somewhere._

"_ENOUGH!" she demanded._

_Suddenly everyone was gone._

_Somehow she was at the edge of the pool._

"_You didn't have to do that, you know," Kana said, crouching in front of her._

_Chiaki ignored her._

"_I won't tell you again, Chiaki!" Haruka said, appearing from somewhere._

_Haruka blew a large, impossible bubblegum bubble, one bubble inside another._

_When Haruka finally popped it, both Kana and Chiaki clapped._

"_Watch your stuff!" Haruka said, tossing something at her._

_It struck her on the side of the head, but she was able to catch it as it glanced off._

_Fujioka._

_The bear, that is._

_It pointed at her with its paw, not at her face, but at her belly, as if trying to show her something._

_Something—_

_The sound of laughter interrupted her._

_Yoshino and Uchida had reappeared, Uchida pretending to drown for some reason while Yoshino giggled. Makoto and Touma seemed to be engaged in some sort of swimming race._

_She moved towards them._

_Bad move._

_They slammed into her full speed, knocking the breath out of her, Mako-chan's hairclip scratching her face._

_Somehow, she ended up underwater, looking up at the surface, at the distorted image of the sun through the water._

This is an indoor pool!

_No, that wasn't what was important._

_She was drowning, unable to keep the water out of her lungs._

_She flailed wildly, losing all her previous aptitude in the water._

_Looking up, she realized what was wrong._

_Out of pure shock, she stopped moving, one arm still stretched upward, sinking._

_Something pulled her up._

She awoke, gasping.

Kana held her by the hand, having pulled her up and woken her that way.

"You see? You have to be forceful in situations like this," Kana said, looking at Haruka.

Haruka looked worried.

"Are you okay, Chiaki?" she said, bending down and placing her hand against Chiaki's forehead. Only then did Chiaki notice the sheen of sweat on her brow.

She glanced backward out of the corner of her eye.

Besides the standard long strands of hair littering the pillow, there was a region of dampness. Fujioka had been compressed wholly out of shape and was only now recovering.

She looked back.

"I'm fine," she said, trying not to sound shaken. "Only a bad dream."

Her right hand twisted her matted hair.

Haruka stood back up.

"We had such a hard time waking you. We thought—"

"I got up earlier than you again!" Kana said, interrupting and leaning forward. She waved her finger. "You're really slipping now."

Chiaki looked away.

"Like I care when you get up," she said, acrimoniously.

"Get dressed, okay?" Haruka said, accepting Kana's lightening of the situation. "We'll be waiting for you outside."

Something about her words reverberated.

Chiaki shook her head to clear away the impact of the dream.

She looked at the clock on the wall.

They hadn't said anything, but she was already late for school. Very late.

* * *

Because she was late, she almost didn't notice.

She slid the door open and walked into the classroom, brushing right by Touma, and mumbled an apology to the teacher before heading to her seat. It was the first time since coming to this school that she had ever been late. And it was already the last week of school. It wouldn't matter much.

She was in the process of unpacking her things when it occurred to her to glance around the classroom.

Makoto, staring at her, blushed, turned towards the board, then started turning back, then turned the _other way_, looking at Touma, before finally looking back to look at the teacher. His jerky pseudo-triple take triggered a snicker from some of his closer male friends.

Less obviously, she also looked away.

_It's your fault,_ insisted a familiar inner voice.

She shook her head.

_No, not now! Not again! I have to focus! I can't let this—_

Then she locked eyes with Touma.

Uncharacteristically, Touma blushed deeply, and dodged her gaze. Minor details: the carefully arranged hair and hair clip, the skirt, the necklace, the socks, and, most importantly, the meek and self-conscious demeanor; they combined to give a completely different impression of her.

The rest of the class already gotten over their shock.

Chiaki didn't have any such chance.

A moment later, the pencilbox she was holding fell to her desk with a clatter, a pencil rolling over the threshold and plummeting to the floor.

"Minami-san? Are you alright?" her homeroom teacher asked.

"Ah, yes!" she said, breaking out of her reverie and accepting her pencil back from the girl next to her. "I'm fine!"

The teacher gave her the brief, worried look, then turned back to the board.

She had been seeing a lot of that look recently.

She spent the rest of the period sneaking glances at Touma, who now studiously avoided looking back.

* * *

At the end of the period, someone else got there first.

As Chiaki watched from a few paces away, the girl named Misawa slammed her palm into Touma's desk, leaning over to glare at her.

"What is this? What are you doing?"

Chiaki shifted her position so that, hopefully, Misawa wouldn't notice her.

Clearly having somehow anticipated this situation, Touma had an unyielding look already prepared.

"You know what I'm doing," she responded, arms crossed. "You were there when I said I would do it."

"I didn't think you would actually do it!"

Touma said nothing, refusing to look in her face, this time out of stubbornness rather than embarrassment.

After a moment, Misawa straightened up, changing tacks.

"You're serious about this, aren't you?" she asked.

"Of course I am. I'm here, aren't I?"

Touma turned to look at Chiaki before quickly turning away again.

"And this is for…?" Misawa asked.

She made a vague gesture with her arm, in the rough direction of Chiaki's desk.

"Yes," Touma said, curtly.

Misawa leaned back on the desk behind her, twirling her hand in her ponytail.

"The others aren't going to like this, you know," she said airily. "It eliminates one of your major charm points. And most of us will be jealous, whether we admit it or not."

"You know very well I don't care," Touma said, without hesitation.

Misawa closed her eyes, and placed her right hand over her heart in an exaggerated gesture of pain.

"That hurts, you know."

Touma ignored her.

Misawa opened her eyes and nodded, bowing slightly.

"Alright, I understand. I'll be sure to take appropriate measures."

Touma turned to glare at her.

"Just what are you telling them?" she demanded.

"Nothing you'd dislike. I'm running interference. They must know something, but they can't know everything, or it would be across the school in minutes. You wouldn't like that, would you?"

Surprised by the hint of vehemence in her voice, Touma shook her head.

"No, I wouldn't. I mean, it's not that I'm ashamed or anything, but, I mean, for her safety, it's better if—"

Misawa put her hand on Touma's shoulder.

"I understand," she said, smiling slightly. "The strategy I'm going with right is to generate as much noise as possible. It's obvious there's _something _going on; with the way you three are acting, a Martian would probably pick up on it. So I tell each of them different stories, and eventually there's so many rumors going around that no one has any real idea what's going on."

"I—I see," Touma said, surprised at the amount of the work it sounded like she was doing. Also, what types of stories was she—

"Anyway," Misawa said, turning around to look straight at Chiaki, who she had clearly known was there all along. "I'm sure you two have plenty to talk about, so I'll be headed back to my seat."

She started to walk to the front of the class, but stopped and turned her head back.

"Just don't forget I'm here, okay?"

Touma watched her sit down.

"An interesting conversation that was," Chiaki said, walking over to Touma.

"Yes, it was," Touma said, trying to act blasé, but visibly shrinking.

"Planning this for a while, I see."

"Yes, I have."

"It's my turn to ask: What the hell are you doing, baka-yaro?"

"I—"

Touma looked towards the front of the room, at Makoto, who had not surprisingly been staring back the entire time. He gave Touma a reassuring nod.

She swallowed hard.

"The thing is—"

She was interrupted by the sound of chimes over the intercom. The next period was starting. The English teacher started calling the class to order.

Touma looked visibly lost for a moment, and started to speak again.

Chiaki held her hand out in a stop gesture.

"Save it for lunch. We don't have time now anyway."

After a moment, Touma nodded.

* * *

"Well?" demanded Chiaki.

They faced each other over their standard lunchtime four-desk seating arrangement. It was again their classroom's turn to host the gathering, and they had just finished setting it up in silence.

Uchida and Yoshino weren't here yet, thankfully.

"I wanted to try something new!" Touma responded instantly, having had time to steady herself.

"That's it?" Chiaki shot back, equally fast.

"No! No, the truth is…"

Chiaki tapped her fingers, arms crossed. It was so natural to settle back into old rhythms, the dynamic back-and-forth exchanges and argumentative style that had characterized them, that awkwardness like there had been that morning was again a rarity.

Even with the undercurrents involved.

Yoshino and Uchida walked into the classroom, observed the situation, and decided to start chatting with some of the students in the class, partly to make them stop trying to eavesdrop.

"I wanted to see what it was like," Touma said. "How it would make me feel. How it would make _you_ feel."

Chiaki thought about that for a moment.

"You think it would matter?" she asked, finally.

"It might."

They stared at each other for a moment.

"It won't," Chiaki said, breaking eye contact. "I'm annoyed that you think it might."

"You say that, but how do you know?"

Chiaki looked up in surprise, both at the speed and contents of her reply.

"You can't, really," Touma continued. "Not until we try."

Chiaki blinked, rapidly, then closed her eyes to think.

"Alright," she said, eventually, opening her eyes. "I accept your reasoning, if you think it's this important."

They watched each other for a moment.

"Let's sit down," Touma said.

They did so, sliding back opposing chairs and rummaging in their bags for their lunches.

Visibly relaxing, Uchida and Yoshino started heading in their direction.

"For the record…" Chiaki began, pausing to make sure she had Touma's attention. She did.

"For the record," she restated, "As you are now, you are quite…attractive."

Touma's eyes widened in surprise, hand still in her bag.

"Ah, well, that's not to say you didn't look good before! There's nothing wrong with the way you dressed before, that is…"

She looked away, blushing strongly, with an expression that seemed to say "Well. I said it, didn't I? You don't need to look so skeptical."

"Th—thank you," Touma responded, blushing equally strongly.

"HI!" Uchida said, no longer able to withstand pretending not to hear anything while standing right next to them.

Uchida stood there awkwardly, waiting for a response.

"Hello," Chiaki said blandly, for all the world as if she had just appeared. "So you're here.""Hello!" added an unexpected voice.

They looked up at the owner, who had appeared out of nowhere and was trying to hide his nervousness by acting as energetic as he could.

Their surprised looks gave give him pause.

"Uh, mind if I join you?" Makoto asked, having lost the force of his initial entrance. His abandoned friends watched him from across the room

Yoshino titled her head in interest.

"Go ahead," Chiaki said, turning her head to pretend to focus on her lunch. "Drag a chair over, Baka-yaro."

"At once!"

* * *

"Chiaki," Makoto began, walking off the court towards her.

She didn't hear him in the loud gymnasium.

"Hime!" he said, louder, closer, and designed to get her attention.

"I'll kill you if you call me that again, but what is it?" she asked, turning, less hostile than she would have been just two weeks ago. This was the new equilibrium they had negotiated over the past week. Constant awkwardness and embarrassment was impossible to maintain, after all, even if one of the persons involved had been grounded for apparently lying to his mother about going to a girl's house.

"I wanted to ask…" he began, sitting down next to her.

Chiaki watched the game in action, listened to the squeak of shoes on the wooden floor. Today, the class had been divided into four teams to play two surprisingly competitive games of basketball. There was even a team leader who decided when the two-man benches would rotate in. Unfortunately, Chiaki's lack of stamina and Makoto's turnover-prone ways ensured that they spent most of the time rooted firmly to the bleachers, even though it was required that everyone play for at least some time. They had both already satisfied that criterion.

"Well?" she asked, turning her head. He was watching the game, unexpectedly.

"Touma's pretty good, you know," he said, not turning to look at her. "She's tall, and she's got the speed and maneuverability. But she's not good at dribbling or making shots. She's never practiced at this sport, but she's still impressive. Really, she's quite something."

Chiaki tilted her head, slightly surprised.

"That's not a question, Makoto," she decided to say.

"I—"

He looked down.

"Do you think I'm cute?" he said, almost inaudibly, cheeks flaring.

"Don't ask me a question like that in public, Baka-yaro!" she retorted after a moment, buying time to prepare her response.

"There's no one near us," he said.

That was true. The bleachers were sparsely populated, and Uchida was in the middle of her mandatory time on the court, making good use of it by wisely refusing to do anything that involved ball-handling. She was, however, shockingly good at shooting the ball from distance. It just went to show you.

Yoshino, who had not been surprised, was good enough to spend most of the period actually playing. As Chiaki watched, Touma leveraged her height to force Yoshino to miss a layup, triggering mutual disdainful looks. The two of them were having quite the experience vs. talent grudge match.

"M—Mako-chan told me you said so," Makoto added, taking a major risk.

_What?_ Chiaki thought.

"I never told her anything like that," Chiaki said.

"She…she said you used some analogy involving tanukis."

_What is he—_

Then she remembered.

She looked at him, her guarded expression failing to stop a tiny bit of shock leaking through, which he didn't notice because he was too busy looking at his hands. She quickly regained control, but the thought remained.

_How did Mako-chan know who I was talking about? _she thought, thinking back furiously.

She had analogized the tanuki in Kana's story to Makoto, thinking that it was earnest like he was and that, like him, he should have been honest. It was a crazy whim of hers to let something like that slip, but she had rested secure in the knowledge that it was far too illogical and random an analogy for anyone to understand.

_Wait, this was years ago. I knew about his feelings, even then? What have I been doing?_

Her whole problem was she had no idea what she had been doing. That she was starting to realize.

_Come to think of it, how do they even know each other? I've never seen them together._

"I don't know how on earth Mako-chan knew what I was talking about, but I do—"

She inhaled sharply, suddenly realizing what she was saying.

She looked the other way to hide her expression.

"I—I stand by my words, okay?"

It was the first real compliment she had ever given him, however indirectly delivered.

She looked back for what she knew she would see: the radiant smile whose warmth she could almost feel, the kind of expression that added truth to her words, the kind of expression that used to weaken her resolve, back when she needed to keep him away. It made her weak-kneed.

In exactly the same way Touma's laugh did.

Why were things so hard?

Realizing she was staring, she looked away again, just in time to watch Yoshino force in a layup around Touma's arms. Thus, she missed seeing Makoto's smile dim, replaced by confusion.

He had tacked on that extra information involving Mako-chan to test, once again, just how much Chiaki suspected, if at all. That was how he had planned it, but he had forgotten the whole point of asking in the heat of the moment.

Now, thinking back, her response made no sense.

She seemed to acknowledge the tanuki analogy, thereby confirming that she must certainly know, but had also couched it in such a way as to unironically refer to Mako-chan and how the analogy shouldn't make any sense to her.

He lost the train of thought when Chiaki said something else.

"Don't feel insecure, okay?" she said, quietly, not looking away from the game. "I really do find the both of you…"

She left it at that.

That was a natural end to the conversation, but—

He looked at the clock mounted on the gym wall.

—there was something else he needed to ask.

"Chiaki," he insisted.

"What?" she asked, distractedly, lost in her own thoughts.

"I want to ask something. About you."

She looked at him, again surprised.

"The thing is, you never—I mean, I think that—"

He stopped, losing the words.

_I'm not doing this right at all!_

"Your parents!" he blurted out.

"My parents? What about them?"

Chiaki tilted her head in confusion.

"I mean, I realized I don't know anything about you! What was it like? I mean, does it—"

_God, I sound like an idiot_, he thought, as he said the words.

"I appreciate the concern," she interrupted, looking at him and grabbing his shoulder. "But we're fine. It's been a long time. Haruka is good at what she does."

It was clear she didn't like the topic, but he pressed on.

"It's just—I look at you and I, I…just don't think you're happy."

It had sounded so much less crazy when he was saying it to Touma. He felt like he was ranting gibberish. And he couldn't just outright admit he'd been sneaking peeks at her diary.

It hadn't been a good idea to do this. He cringed in anticipation of the flat-out denial she would issue, coupled with a tone of voice suggesting that he was off his gourd.

"I don't know why you would say that," Chiaki said instead, in a much quieter tone, looking down at her knees.

He watched her with wide eyes, his instincts again whispering nonsense in his ears.

"I'm fine," she said, after a moment, hair hanging over the side of her face, shrouding her eyes. "I don't want to talk about it. Baka-yaro."

She said the last word mechanically, almost as an afterthought.

_I'm fine._

The falseness of those words seemed to him to hang in the air between them. But was he just imagining things again?

Was he crazy?

Far to their right, two boys cheered loudly after an Uchida three-pointer, one that made Yoshino shake her head in disgust at her teammate's defense.

* * *

_Is this it, then?_

Touma shook her head to herself.

_This can't be it._

But what, then? It was difficult how she could prove any more to herself than she had already established. She was attractive. Chiaki had said so. And Touma had lost none of her ardor.

_Still…_

Makoto was saying something. She should pay attention.

"…and even if it weren't for that, I, for one, am excited just to be able to go back to her house," he said, walking at her right side.

"Of course _you_ would be," she said, taking a moment to give the evil eye to two students nearby watching them.

"Humph. I won't be fazed by your mocking words."

"Mock you? I wouldn't dare."

They rounded the corner at the school gate, Makoto pouting in a manner unseemly for his gender.

It reminded her a little of what he had looked like yesterday, crying like that. It was an image that had stayed with her all day, and—

"You two!" Kana said, suddenly standing right in front of them, the greens of her uniform conspicuous in the crowd, standing with Uchida and Yoshino. Her hair, unusually, was down.

"Have you seen Chiaki?" Kana demanded.

"Ah, yes," Touma said. "The homeroom teacher wanted to talk to her. She should be out shortly."

"We were going to wait, but she said to go ahead…" Makoto added, his voice trailing off as he thought about it.

"Are you here to pick her up?" Touma asked, applying logic to the situation.

"Yes, actually," Kana said, smiling sardonically. "I'm sorry to deprive you two of her, but we actually planned to go the park today, for a few hours. And you're not invited. I'm sure you're quite sad, Ma-ko-to."

As she enunciated the last word, syllable by syllable, she leaned forward and patted Makoto on the head condescendingly. He bore it as semi-stoically as he bore all her abuse.

"Why not wait with us?" Yoshino asked. "You're not in a hurry, are you?"

"What are we even waiting for?" Touma asked. "We're headed straight to her house, and you two are going to yours. Why wouldn't we just go now?"

"Just stay and chat a bit," Kana said. "Why are you in such a hurry? Don't you want to see more of Chiaki's face?"

Touma grunted, then just dropped her bag to the floor and leaned against the school's stone perimeter wall, as Makoto had already done.

"Anyway, Kana!" Uchida said. "Don't hold back! Tell us already! Who is this new boyfriend Riko-san has?"

_Tch, gossip_, Touma thought to herself, closing her eyes.

"I told you already!" Kana admonished. "Not a boyfriend! Just someone who confessed to her, from a different school. She agreed to meet him tomorrow. That's all."

"Close enough!" Uchida insisted.

Yoshino looked thoughtful.

"Good to know, I guess. Uchida, what makes you think you'd even know who the guy is?"

Uchida look surprised by the question, clearly not having thought of that point.

"Ah, well, that's…"

Touma opened her eyes again, not tired enough to keep them closed, and found Kana, strangely, looking at her out of the corner of her eyes.

Kana looked away.

"Besides—" Kana began, stopping when she spotted Chiaki rounding the corner, wearing an annoyed expression.

"Oh, there you are," Kana said.

"Yes," Chiaki said bluntly, glancing around at the five of them. "You've explained to them?"

"Of course."

"Can't be sure with you," Chiaki commented.

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Nevermind. Let's just go."

Chiaki started to walk off.

"Hold on a second," Kana said, holding out her hand, causing Chiaki to turn back slightly.

"I didn't tell you to wait just so we could chit-chat," Kana said to Touma, now that she had Chiaki waiting for her. "I figure I should warn you. Fujioka's waiting around that corner—"

She pointed in the direction where Touma and Makoto would have gone.

"—and he's got it in his head that he needs to talk to you, Touma. Well, it could be a good idea, who knows?" she said, shrugging.

"I see…" Touma said, dragging out the phrase in consideration.

"Let's go," Kana said to Chiaki, joining her.

"I'll be seeing the rest of you later, okay?" Chiaki said, starting to walk off.

The four of them shouted back various versions of "Definitely!" and "See you!"

"Oy, Chiaki!" Touma shouted. "Remember! Tomorrow, okay?"

Chiaki didn't say anything back, just raised her left hand in a thumbs-up expression.

Tomorrow was the big soccer game, after all. She had never before managed to convince Chiaki to actually attend. She supposed Chiaki was starting to feel that she should show some effort. "Chiaki was in a bad mood…" Uchida mused. "I wonder why."

"We'll be seeing you too, then, okay?" Yoshino said, walking off with Uchida in a different direction.

Yoshino preferred to walk some distance before letting her chauffeur pick her up. She preferred not to flaunt it.

"Okay," Makoto said.

"See you," Touma said, simultaneously.

They walked off in a third direction.

It was only when they started walking that Touma realized what had been unusual about the entire conversation.

Kana had looked straight at her, presumably noticed her new style of dress, and had proceeded to ignore it entirely, without even so much as an indication of surprise.

True to form, Fujioka was indeed right around the corner, leaning against a sakura tree, looking at his watch. As they watched, he waved away a group of flower petals which were hovering in front of his face.

"Oh, Makoto-kun!" Fujioka said, noticing them. "Have you seen Touma? Kana said it was a sure thing she would come this way, but I haven't—"

His eyes refocused more clearly on Touma.

"Ah! Touma! I—I didn't recognize you."

"Hello, Fujioka," she said, in a resigned tone. "I hear you wanted to talk to me?"

"Yes," he said. "But…"

He glanced at Makoto.

"I'll go on ahead," Makoto said, catching the cue.

They watched him walk off.

"Let's get a drink," Touma said, interrupting Fujioka as he opened his mouth to speak. "There's a café around here…"

* * *

"I wish you would let me pay," Fujioka commented, as they sat down with their drinks.

"This again?" Touma asked, before briefly sucking on the straw for her fruit juice. "Everyone keeps trying to pay for me. Haruka too. It's not like I don't get an allowance. I'm frugal with it. I can afford it."

_Frugal enough that I just blew three months worth on clothing…_

_No, frugal enough that I _can_ blow three months worth if I want._

"Well, I guess she still thinks of you as a primary schooler," he said amicably. "And you're around so much that she might even think of you as a sister. Subconsciously or something."

He left his own reasons out of it.

"Besides," she said, swirling the ice around in her half-empty cup. "We wouldn't want to give people the impression that we're on a date or anything."

_What?_ He thought, putting down his cup of iced tea, which he had finally decided to pick up.

_Oh, that's right._

He glanced around the sparsely populated café and there was, indeed, a group of students glancing at them. From the looks of it, they recognized Touma.

He spent so much time around her that it was easy to forget things like this.

_No, get a grip, Fujioka. Obviously they would just assume I'm one of her brothers. Obviously._

Touma, of course, didn't care.

"The perverted high-schooler pursuing younger girls, am I right?" Touma added, with a devious smile.

He reacted, but this time only slightly.

"I'm just a giant walking target to you guys, huh?" he said, implicitly referring to Uchida and Yoshino as well.

"Well, yes," Touma said, blinking at his unusual response. "You're just so easy."

Fujioka made an expression of mock despair while Touma continued to drink her juice.

"Well, I'm sorry I haven't been very regular recently with the soccer practice," Fujioka said, dropping the topic. "You know, with Kana and all…"

"It's alright," Touma said, finally running out of juice. Her straw made a sucking noise as it sought out the last few drops among the ice cubes.

She placed the cup into the table and started to wipe her mouth with her sleeve. She stopped, and grabbed a napkin from the dispenser instead.

Fujioka coughed dryly.

"What's with the new outfit?" he asked. "To be frank, I never thought I'd ever see you dress like this. But I guess I was assuming too much…"

"Assuming? What?"

"Nevermind. I just mean, is there some special reason for this, or are you just…"

"I'm just trying something new," she said, for what must have been the seventeenth time that day.

"I see," he said, clearly not fully believing the statement.

He was prepared to let it go though, at least until he thought about it more carefully.

"So? Why did you call me here?" she asked.

"Ah, well…"

By the expressions that crossed his face, Touma was sure she knew—not that she hadn't guessed already.

Still, she didn't say anything. She knew to let him gather himself for things like this.

Fujioka, for all his awkwardness, was generally worth listening to.

She wished she still had her juice.

After only a brief moment, Fujioka cleared his throat.

"So I heard everything from Kana. About you and—"

"She told you?" Touma said, a little betrayed.

"I talked her into it. I told her I wouldn't let it go. I thought you were getting into fights. With a personality like yours…I was worried! I couldn't just let it go!"

Touma appreciated the thought; she had always known he cared. But…

She made a "keep it down" gesture with her hands while looking around the room with a dismayed expression.

Fujioka, always sensitive to social pressure, got the message, looking vaguely embarrassed. Fortunately, no one seemed to have heard him.

She suddenly regretted choosing to come to this café. She didn't care what people of thought of her, but still didn't want them knowing too much.

"Anyway," he said, after another moment. "I know I'm bad at doing this, but I spent a long time thinking of what to say, so let me start."

She nodded.

"First, I have to say I wasn't that surprised to hear about the two of you."

"That obvious, huh?" Touma said, grimacing slightly, remembering the last time Fujioka had seen her and Chiaki in a tickle fight. What he was saying might well be an understatement.

"Well, I wouldn't say that," he said, after a moment of consideration. "Maybe only to me. I think the only reason I saw it so quickly was that I thought you were a boy. As long as I thought that, it was blindingly obvious, and I wondered why no one else even seemed to care. Once I learned the truth, I was a lot less sure. My point is, I have no idea how obvious it was to others. Not at all, perhaps. But in my case, I think I've been expecting this for a long time."

Touma nodded again, a little embarrassed by the reference to her past deceptions.

"The bigger surprise was Makoto," he said. "I've only seen him a couple of times. I never suspected, even though it makes sense in retrospect."

"Neither did I," Touma said.

"I've thought about this," Fujioka said. "I'll get this out of the way first. To be honest, I never thought I'd ever encounter an actual—"

He gestured with his hands in an abortive manner, making it clear what he was getting at.

"You can just say it," Touma said. "It won't insult me."

"Not here," Fujioka responded, again gesturing, referring to the lack of total privacy.

"Right."

"But once you forced me to consider the possibility, I realized the way I had to act. It doesn't matter, not to me, in the same way it didn't matter to me whether you were male or female. In a way, that whole confusion taught me a pretty good lesson."

Now that Touma thought about it, she had never once even considered the possibility that Fujioka would reject her for something like that. Indeed, she hadn't worried about any of her friends. She had only worried about everyone else at school, or random people on the street.

_Naïve, maybe, but if so, I lucked out._

She had gotten a lot more trusting of her friends, ever since Fujioka had discovered the truth and refused to condemn her. That day, she had wanted to avoid Fujioka for the rest of her life and never speak to him again. Chiaki had talked her out of it.

This she owed to both of them.

"I even asked Kana once, indirectly," Fujioka added. "Just in case. It doesn't matter to her, about you _or_ her sister, in case that has bothered you."

"It hasn't. I've never believed any of you would ever abandon me."

"That's good to hear," Fujioka said, closing his eyes for a moment. "But that brings me to my next topic."

"Yes?"

"Your brother, Natsuki-san. He suspects. He asked me about it once. I lied to him, which I think was a good decision, since I don't get the impression—"

"Forget about him! Who cares?"

She stopped, having slammed her fist into the table, surprised by her own reaction.

Fujioka sighed, making it plain for her to see.

"I was afraid of this. You have to care, Touma."

"Why? Why should I care what that bastard thinks?"

She knew she was getting carried away, and was struggling to keep her voice down.

"We've been through this already," Fujioka said, trying to be calming. "I know you resent him, but he's still your brother, however good or bad. You're not being fair to him. You haven't even given him a chance. Besides, where do you think your allowance money is coming from? Like I said, we've already been through this."

"I don't want—" she said, clenching her teeth.

"Why are you so angry?"

"I'm not—"

She stopped. That was an obvious lie.

"You haven't even told him, have you?"

"No," she spat out.

"He's going to find out eventually. And then what? At the very least, the next time he talks to Haruka—"

"Chiaki told her not to tell him, and she won't."

"Okay, fine, but he should hear it from you anyway."

She ignored him, crossing her arms.

"Be stubborn if you want; you know I'm right."

She drank the meltwater in her glass cup and slammed it back down as hard as she dared, ignoring him.

Fujioka sighed, frustrated.

"Fine, we'll talk about this later. I'm not letting you off the hook. I've got something else to talk about."

"Still?"

Fujioka shrugged.

"I told you. I put a lot of thought into this."

"Fine, what is it?" she asked, relenting.

"I've been thinking. You're close to Chiaki. _Really _close. Now Makoto-kun, I can't claim to know him that well, but I hardly ever see him around her house. In fact, I don't think I've ever seen them together. Now, it's possible I just missed it somehow, but I don't think so."

"What's your point?" she asked, though again she anticipated what he was going to say.

"What about him makes him an equal challenger to you? They're barely close at all. Is it just because he is male? That doesn't bode well. Not for you."

"It may not seem like it," Touma began, leaning forward, "but they're closer than they appear. He's been around a lot longer than I have, and they argue all the time. It turns out that the arguing is a cover for something deeper."

She fully realized the irony of having to defend Makoto.

"I see. Are you sure that's enough?" he asked, searching her eyes.

"What do you mean?" she asked, now unclear on where he was going with this.

"I feel that there's something else. I admit I'm not the closest observer here but…"

Touma just blinked at him.

"I might as well say it directly," Fujioka said. "Do you know if Makoto-kun is hiding something?

Touma barely managed to suppress the expression that crossed her face.

Fujioka hadn't been kidding. He really _had_ thought about this.

I concede, it's not just because of this," he said, watching her carefully. "I have other reasons to think so. There's also that girl Mako-chan—"

_Oh shit!_ She thought automatically.

"I've never seen her at school, even though she was supposed to be my junior. And she's so similar to Makoto…"

"Are you saying they're related?" Touma asked, trying to throw him off-track. "It's possible; I've never asked."

She exerted maximal control over her facial expressions. She wasn't sure if it was enough.

"Maybe something like that," he said. "Though not quite. There was that one time…"

In the pause afterward, Touma could feel a single drop of sweat trickle down the back of her head.

"Well, nevermind," he said suddenly. "I could be wrong. I'll share my theory with you when I'm sure. For now, I'll just say that it's my opinion there's definitely something going on with him. You should be careful."

"O—okay."

She couldn't quite shake the stutter out of her voice.

_This is just like that time he figured me out! Fujioka is a lot sharper than he seems, _she concluded.

Fujioka considered whether to add something further.

_Why not? _He thought. _I've said everything else. I'm sure she trusts me enough that we can just hold random conversations like this._

He chuckled.

"You know, it's strange how these things work," he said, "I mean, it's not like I knew Kana that well either, but if I had to peg anyone for Makoto to get a crush on, I would have chosen you. In fact, I was starting to think…"

For a long moment, she just stared at him.

"Me?" she asked, genuinely surprised, tilting her head.

"Well, er, I mean, from what little I've seen." Fujioka said, trying to recover, "He spends a lot more time with you than Chiaki. In fact, you guys seem almost…as close as…"

His voice trailed off as he viewed the look of sheer bafflement that crossed her face.

"Nevermind. Well, anyway, that's it," he said, changing the subject hastily. "I wonder: why don't you have practice today? Isn't the championship game tomorrow?"

Touma shrugged.

"Coach believes in letting us rest beforehand. She says we should be ready already, so we should just take it easy. We haven't practiced since Friday. It's nonsense, of course; we'll just be out-of-shape and out-of-practice. But just try telling that to _her_…"

"Coaches all have their eccentricities," Fujioka said, quietly relieved that she had accepted the gambit so readily. "It won't matter much, not with _you_."

"Thanks for the flattery," she said, dismissively.

"It's not flattery," he asserted.

"If you say so."

Fujioka looked at her.

"I wish I had time to work with you today, but alas—"

"We both have prior arrangements, right?"

"Well, actually, I don't. But I think you do."

They both knew what he meant.

"Are you coming with us today?" Touma asked.

Fujioka shook his head.

"Kana won't even be there, and I figure I should leave you three alone. Haruka seems anxious to talk to you."

"Really…"

"Really. I think you've noticed."

Touma thought about that for a moment.

"Ready to go?" Fujioka asked.

"You should drink your iced tea first," Touma pointed out.

"Ah, yes."

* * *

Touma closed the door as quietly as she could behind her.

Taking her shoes off, she shook her head to dislodge several of those damned flower petals, which had settled in her hair.

She glanced over the shoes in the doorway.

_Fujioka was right; they're not back yet._

_Wait, I can't just leave these petals here._

She picked them back up and stuffed them in her pocket. Hopefully she would remember to throw them away later.

Touma slid open the door to the living room

"No, no," Haruka said to Makoto, sipping her tea. "There's no need to worry about it. You're not even in high school yet. I was just asking."

Makoto looked up at the sound of the door opening.

"Oh, you're here, Touma."

"Sorry to intrude," she said to Haruka, feeling the need to be formal.

"Oh, that's alright—" Haruka began, before stopping abruptly. Her eyes widened slightly.

"Don't move," Haruka commanded as she got up, holding her hand out, palm facing outward.

Touma stood warily still as Haruka circled her, chin in hand and wearing a thoughtful expression. Several times, Haruka bent down slightly to inspect something more closely, before standing back up.

Finally, she stopped in front of Touma and smiled slightly.

"I like it. Good taste. Did you choose it yourself? I've been meaning to say something myself, but…"

Touma shook her head.

"No, I had some help."

"Uchida and Yoshino?" Haruka asked.

"Yes," Touma said, barely managing to stop herself from mentioning Mako-chan. She couldn't suppress the glance at Makoto, though.

Haruka nodded.

"They're nice girls. Nice girls."

She sat back down, motioning for Touma to pick a spot at the kotatsu.

Haruka poured Touma and herself a fresh cup of tea.

_Is it just me, or is Haruka a little strange today?_

Haruka downed her cup of tea in one go, then made a strange face. The two of them just watched her.

"Anyway," Haruka said, seeming to settle down. "As I've already explained to Makoto, I probably won't get another chance like this. I don't know where my sisters are, but their absence and your presence makes this my best chance."

_She doesn't know?_

"It's my job to take care of my sisters," she continued, clearly reciting a prepared speech. "I'm not a parent, and I've never wanted to be treated as one. However, there are times when I have to act as much like one as possible. Do you understand?"

Touma just stared at her, uncomprehending.

"Think of me as Chiaki's mother, meeting you for the first time. This is an interview."

"Oh," Touma said, not at all ready for this situation.

She glanced around nervously, trying to think of a way out.

_I don't think there is one_.

"Good timing on your part, Touma," Haruka said, leaning forward. "I just finished with Makoto. Actually…"

She gave Makoto a piercing look.

"I'll—I'll be in Chiaki's room," Makoto said, making himself scarce.

Haruka nodded after he left, thinking to herself that she was handling this much better than she had expected herself to. Touma, for her part, continued to look nonplussed.

"I know a good deal about you already," Haruka said, pouring herself yet another cup of tea. "So there's a lot I don't need to ask. Let's start with the stereotypical questions. What are your plans for your future?"

_Damn it, why didn't Fujioka warn me? Touma thought despairingly, trying to think of how to frame herself in the best way._

"I'm not sure yet, honestly," she prevaricated. "I haven't thought about it too much. I know I'm really good at soccer. If I hone my skills and get a university scholarship, then maybe I can make it all the way. But I don't know yet if that's really what I want to do."

She hedged as much as she could.

Haruka nodded.

"That sounds about right. It's alright. You're only in middle school. No need to worry too much."

Touma couldn't place what it was about Haruka's expression that unsettled her. Yes, she was behaving unusually, but that made sense, in context. Was this the legendary Banchou Haruka that Kana kept telling them about?

_More like legendary mother Haruka…_

"And what about Chiaki makes her attractive to you?" Haruka asked.

Haruka wasn't even giving her time to think!

"Chiaki has always been a really good friend—" Touma began, well aware that she was giving far too generic a reason.

She kept thinking back to the extensive explanation she had given Makoto, but she couldn't possibly give that here.

"—and one thing led to another," she continued, forcing herself through it. "I didn't anticipate things turning out like this! I thought we would just be friends! I didn't know I—that I had it in me!"

She said these sentences earnestly, leaning forward, trying to convince Haruka of her sincerity. She felt her cheeks redden as she did so.

"I would have been more careful, had I known," she concluded, meekly.

Haruka nodded, putting down her teacup.

"So would I, had I known."

After a brief moment to digest the meaning of that sentence, Touma watched Haruka warily, bracing herself for the next question—which didn't come, at least not immediately.

Instead, Haruka sighed.

"You know," she said, looking strangely wistful, "for Makoto, I would almost be done. I started off with a question about his parents, and I finished by asking about his future. And that was it. I couldn't really come up with any more questions. For you, I don't need to ask about your parents, but…"

Haruka stared into her teacup for a long moment. It made Touma nervous.

Just when she was about to say something, Haruka stirred.

"I promised myself I wouldn't procrastinate," Haruka said, smiling wanly, before looking up.

Touma watched her.

"Ah well," Haruka said, almost flippantly. "I'll try to be direct. It should be easier."

She cleared her throat elaborately.

"When I learned about you, I was shocked. But when I learned that Chiaki was okay with it—"

She stopped.

"When I learned that, I had a lot of thinking to do. I never really thought something like this could happen. I'd be lying if I told you that I'd never imagined my sisters growing up, with husbands and kids…this was rather different. It's a little strange. You're a good person, and Kana's opinion was…"

Haruka stopped again, finally making eye contact with Touma.

"Well, I decided I would treat you as fairly as I could. I don't think I fully understand, but…"

She visibly gathered herself, trying to shake off the restrictions of embarrassment.

"But fair doesn't mean treating you the same as Makoto. That would be a denial of reality. There are real differences. Whatever else, fair or not, it is my responsibility to watch over Chiaki, to treat as sacrosanct both her happiness and her safety."

Haruka's stare at Touma had gotten uncomfortably intense. Touma looked back into her eyes, and could almost understand the depth of feeling that lay within. Haruka had prepared for this.

"So explain to me, then," she continued, leaning back and carelessly placing her teacup back into its saucer, off-center. "Explain to me what you have prepared. Show me that you have considered what is necessary. Show to me that it is safe. And explain to me all that I don't understand: show me the happiness that would be worth risking your and her safety in the first place. Show me that I don't need to worry. Show me that you can take care of her."

Haruka's eyes, looking back and demanding answers, were dark and fearsome. Gone was her earlier tentativeness. Her expression bespoke nothing but the direst seriousness.

"Ah, well…" Touma began.

_No, no, think! You planned for this, remember? You had a cover story and everything!_

_Will it be enough?_

""I didn't just do this blindly!" she asserted, finding it much easier to talk with her eyes closed, throwing out all of her thoughts at once. "I didn't even want to, at first. I didn't think it would safe! But in the end I couldn't stand it! I held out for months, but I couldn't stand it! I prepared everything I could. I thought to myself, I have friends who can cover for me. I can have Makoto hang around all the time, pretend that's what's going on, throw people off. And his mother would…and…and…"

Finally running out of breath after a rather incoherent torrent of words, she panted heavily for a moment, finally opening her eyes. It had been rather more honest than she wanted.

To her surprise, Haruka's expression was much more pleasant now.

"One more question," she said.

Touma waited.

"It all seems rather elaborate taking something like this so seriously in middle school," Haruka added, "But you seem quite serious. You are serious, right? Absolutely sure?"

Touma surprised herself by hesitating before nodding and saying, eyes sharp:

"Absolutely."

"Well, that's all I really wanted to hear," Haruka said, raising an eyebrow. "I wanted to know you were prepared."

She got up slowly and walking, starting to dig around in one of the drawers in the room.

"It's my job, you know," she said offhand, not turning around. "It's easy to forget, caught up in your troubles, about things like the future and grades. But I have to worry. Thank god tests are over, or you three would have gone off a cliff in your scores."

Touma nodded, unseen, relaxing.

"Trivial things like that," Haruka finished, pulling an envelope of the drawer.

"I hid it pretty deeply," she commented, "where they would never look."

"What is it?" Touma asked.

"Not yet," Haruka, putting it on the table under her forearm. "First, I have more things to say."

Touma looked at her questioningly.

"First," Haruka continued. "You might be able to hide it now, from your schoolmates, but if things did turn out in your favor, you wouldn't be able to hide it forever. It would come out eventually, and then you will have to deal with the consequences. I hope you understand that."

Touma nodded.

"I do."

"I'm sure you do, but what about your brothers?" Haruka asked. "They don't know, do they?"

_This again!_

"No," Touma said, setting her mouth stubbornly, preparing for another lecture.

"Well, I won't tell them," Haruka said levelly. "But you know you should. And sooner rather than later."

As she had before with Fujioka, Touma stayed resolutely silent.

Haruka sighed.

"Well, anyway, you said something about Makoto and his mother...Is this the reason Makoto told her you were his girlfriend? You were preparing a cover story? I know I already asked you, but…"

Touma was slowly getting better at not getting caught off-guard. Her face showed nothing but mild surprise.

"Yes, yes, you have it exactly," she said, hoping that with her strong verification, Haruka wouldn't think carefully and realize the flaws in such an explanation.

"I see," Haruka said blandly. "Well, it's time to move on to the other reason I wanted to talk to you."

Touma's curiosity was piqued, despite all that had happened. She had an explanation that she had guessed earlier, but was it right?

Haruka took a deep breath, then shoved the envelope forward.

"Here. Read this. You'll get the idea. It's already open."

Touma did so, at first slowly, then blazing her way through the words, carefully translated from the English on the other page.

She read it again, more carefully, just to be sure.

"This is…"

"Exactly what it looks like," Haruka said. "I received the email last week. This is the official paper notification."

Touma stared at it for a few moments longer.

"Con—congratulations," she said, giving the socially correct response. "I didn't even know you applied, but I'm not surprised—"

"They don't know either," Haruka interrupted, the context making it clear who she meant.

"I thought so. I've been here so much and I haven't heard a word—are you sure?" Touma asked, interrupting her own unthinking statement.

"Of course I'm not sure!" Haruka said, with surprising vigor.

It was amazing how little needed to be said to establish the salient points.

Touma needed to tread carefully. There was a reason she was being told this, but that didn't mean she could speak completely freely.

"Why are you telling me this, instead of them?" she asked, after a moment.

"Because you already knew, to some degree. It wouldn't be as large a shock to you as it would be to anyone else," Haruka said, in the tone of one reciting a familiar line of reasoning.

"But why not Maki? Or Atsuko? They know far more than I do!"

A real question this time.

"Because I already know what they would say. I need a fresh perspective; I've spent so long spinning my wheels about this that—"

Haruka's calm demeanor cracked, just slightly, as she broke off the sentence and bowed her head momentarily. Touma was taken aback by the glimmer of anguish that shone through.

"As I was saying," Haruka continued. "I already know what they would say. I can already picture it: Maki will loudly insist that I go, that I deserve it. She'll promise to visit my sisters every day and treat them as her own, nevermind that she can barely cook—"

She stopped midsentence again, simply terminating her affectless words without any outward sign of struggle. Touma had seen Haruka happy. She had seen her angry—though thank god, not truly angry—but this, she had never seen.

Suddenly she collapsed to the table in a pile of despair.

"I don't know what I expected," Haruka said miserably. "Of course this has nothing to do with you. You don't even know what to say. It's just, I can't keep this to myself anymore. I want to make the decision alone; I can't stand to tell anyone. And yet I can't stand _not_ telling someone."

"I—is it really that bad?" Touma asked tentatively. "Are you really that unsure?"

"It's a horrible feeling, to be caught between two choices like this. My life diverges here, and I can't make a decision, I _just _can't. With the scholarships involved, I don't even have money as an excuse. I only know one is safe and the other…is not."

It sounded familiar to Touma somehow…

"If you really want to go so badly," she said, running throught every reason she could think of, "then why not take the chance? You'll probably only get one chance for this. Your sisters will always be there. I know I'm just repeating your imaginary Maki here, but they'll be fine. Kana probably has it in her. Fujioka can chip in. Maki, if she shows up. You have relatives. I mean, me and Makoto and Uchida and Yoshino are here all the time abusing your hospitality. We can start paying it back. In fact, I promise that I'll—"

Haruka grabbed Touma by the arm, stopping her, and pushed herself back up into a seated position. She smiled crookedly.

"I appreciate it, but it's not entirely about that. Yes, I admit I don't really trust Kana to be able to manage the household. I've spent so long preparing her and she's matured a lot, but still…"

She shook her head rapidly to avoid losing her train of thought.

"Anyway, it's more selfish than that. I don't want to leave this place. I enjoy taking care of my sisters, as crazy as that may sounds. I don't—I wish there was some way I could convey this."

They looked at each other for a moment.

"You love them, don't you?" Touma asked, watching her face carefully. She did not envy her.

"Of course I do."

A quiet throat-clearing noise.

They both turned to see Makoto framed in the doorway.

"I don't know exactly what's going on, but…"

He shifted uneasily.

"We always tell each about how amazing you are," he said, blushing furiously. "Haruka _is_ amazing, we'd say. I understand if you don't want to leave, but…it would be disappointing if you didn't…be as amazing as you could be, even if it means you would have to leave. It's…"

He lost steam and looked away.

"…those are just my thoughts, you don't have to listen to them."

"I appreciate the sentiment," Haruka said, standing up and smiling sweetly.

Makoto smiled back, not immune to her charm even now.

"But who told you you could eavesdrop?" Haruka said, her voice becoming much harsher, walking over to confront the boy.

Makoto's face collapsed.

"But, that's, well, I…"

Touma watched as Haruka extracted onerous promises of secrecy from Makoto, who was visibly squirming.

_We didn't really say anything helpful_, she thought, sighing inwardly. _But in the end, I guess it's her choice, after all._

Touma imagined briefly what it would be like without Haruka around. Natsuki would be crestfallen. Chiaki wouldn't be the same for months. She pictured Kana, face pinched, trying desperately to cook with Chiaki at her side. The place would fall into disarray, and it would lose a lot of the soothing aura that caused so many of them to visit just to sleep. In many ways, the heart would go out of the household.

Touma thought of something she had forgotten.

"Haruka," she said.

"Yes?" Haruka asked, turning around and relieving Makoto of the stare of death he had been receiving.

"Do you _ever_ intend to tell your sisters?"

Haruka was surprised by the question.

"I—well—"

Touma waited.

"If I went, I'd have to tell them, right?" Haruka said, trying to dodge.

Touma narrowed her face in the exact same way Haruka had earlier to her.

"This isn't something you can't keep from them. They're your sisters. They deserve to know."

Viewing Haruka's anguished look, Touma knew they were both fully aware of the irony of the situation, given what Haruka had said to her earlier.

They communicated their points of view with lightning speed.

"How can I?" Haruka asked. "How can I hit them with this at a time like this? How can I hit Chiaki with this?"

"Well—"

"How can you tell me to do so?"

"I'm still right!"

"Just…not now. It can't be now."

Makoto glanced back and forth between their two faces, uncertain whether to try to say something.

"If I can admit that, then you can admit you need to talk to your brothers—" Haruka began, still not walking back from the hallway.

"I know!" Touma snapped, testily, before realizing she had accidentally conceded.

"See, you admit it! You do—"

Makoto and Haruka both turned to look at the sound of the front door swinging open, everyone falling abruptly silent.

Not even pausing, Haruka snapped her head back toward Touma.

"Hide it!" she ordered, gesturing towards the letter on the table.

"We're back!" Kana yelled, as Haruka walked over to greet them, followed by a more hesitant Makoto.

Touma snapped up the letter from the table, glanced around frantically, and finally settled on the same drawer Haruka had pulled it from, shoving the letter in and slamming the drawer shut.

It was only then that she realized there were more voices than there should be coming from the hallway.

She listened carefully, trying to discern who they were.

In addition to the three sisters and Makoto, there was their uncle Takeru and…

_Oh, her._

What was Kumada-sensei doing here?

She leaned around the door into the hallway and looked.

True to form, she was already laughing about something. Chiaki wore the annoyed expression she always had around Kumada-sensei, while Kana looked fairly bemused. Takeru blended into the background.

"Oh, Touma-kun!" Kumada said, spotting her and walking over.

Touma winced at the honorific but didn't protest.

"My, you're getting tall," she said, looking her straight in the face before glancing downward. "And I see you've finally changed how you dress."

"Yes I have," Touma said simply, not wanting to say too much.

"I also see you're eating well," Kumada added.

"Why are you here, sensei?"

"Oh, I'm here to check-up on Chiaki," she said casually. "I didn't expect you two"—her eyes flicked momentarily toward Makoto—"to be here as well, but it's a welcome surprise."

"But you're not our nurse anymore."

"That's what _I_ said!" Chiaki exclaimed suddenly, voice animated, thrusting her head forward. "You have no prerogative to be here! Just go home already!"

Kumada just smiled.

"Ah, well, I just decided to visit," Takeru interjected, rubbing the back of his head. "And she wanted to come also so I figured—"

"Why do you visit randomly?" Kana asked. "We've told you many times you're not welcome."

"Kana!" Haruka protested.

"I have to watch over you three, or else who knows what could happen?" Takeru insisted.

"Tch," Kana vocalized, annoyed by the stock-standard explanation.

"Anyway, let's stop standing around in this hallway," Haruka insisted, shuffling them toward the living room with her arms. "I'll make some tea."

"Actually, let me help you with that," Takeru said, to the surprise of everyone there. He knew better than to try to help, usually.

The rest of them shuffled back to the main to sit around the kotatsu, waiting for their tea.

"I see Kana-chan and Touma-kun are doing well," Kumada said, not dropping the topic. "But you two…I'm concerned. Are you eating well?"

She was referring obviously to Makoto and Chiaki, peering at them and stroking her chin in mimed thoughtfulness.

"Shut up!" Chiaki snapped.

"I know I'm short, okay? Stop rubbing it in!" Makoto protested, simultaneously.

Kumada chuckled to herself.

Touma had no idea why Kumada enjoyed tweaking her patients—_former_ patients—so much. Personal measurements were a matter of privacy, not something to use to push buttons. At least she no longer had access to theirs.

Okay, Touma probably had at least one idea.

"That guy," Kana said suddenly, voice lowered, pointing over her back with her thumb. "He's in there right now, trying to talk to Haruka about Fujioka. He doesn't have the guts to talk straight to me, and yet he can't bring himself to trust the guy. Or any boyfriend, for that matter. If it weren't a _fait accompli_,he 'd be causing even more trouble. I tell you, Chiaki, if he finds out about you, he's going to be trouble."

Touma raised an eyebrow at Kana's use of "_fait accompli_" but otherwise said nothing. Then she realized what else Kana had said.

Chiaki kicked Kana desperately to signal her to stop talking about it, but it was already too late.

"Oh?" Kumada said, absurdly perceptive as always. "Finds out what?"

She glanced around at their expressions, not quite concealed fast enough, and quickly drew her conclusion.

She leaned over and grabbed Makoto, who was sitting next to her, by the shoulder. The boy recoiled.

"So it finally happened, huh?" she said, smiling widely and facetitiously. "Congratulations! See, I told you, Chiaki! And you said I was crazy!"

Her comment set off a round of eye-contact avoidance around the table. They really weren't any good at keeping secrets.

"No, it hasn't!" Chiaki protested indignantly.

But it was Touma, trying to pretend to look at something behind her, who gave away the most.

"Oh? Is something going on here too?" Kumada asked, tilting her head and smiling mischievously.

"Just go home already!" Chiaki demanded, starting to shove at Kumada physically.

"Don't worry," Kumada said, winking. "The secret's safe with me."

"I highly doubt that," Chiaki growled.

Touma looked at Kana, who had simply watched the incident with mild interest, despite having started it. Had she really slipped up or…was it intentional?

"I've brought the tea!" Haruka announced, walking into the room.

* * *

"What do you think about the incident this morning?" Haruka asked, apropos of nothing, as she and Kana washed the dishes together.

"It's too soon to overreact," Kana said. "It could easily be nothing."

They left it, for now, at that.

* * *

"Why are you late, Akira? It's almost four!" Natsuki fumed from his position seated at the kotatsu.

"I had things to do," Akira explained, flinching at Natsuki's anger. "Today just wasn't a good day. I couldn't put it off…"

"Give him a break already," Haruo said, diplomatically. "He came, didn't he? I'm sure he has his own things to take care of."

"Whatever," Natsuki responded, but didn't push the issue.

Akira sat down nervously.

"Please, sir! Put your shirt back on!" yelled a voice on the TV, which was broadcasting some sort of cooking competition.

_Iron…Chef?_

Haruo turned it off without looking at it.

"Well, Natsuki," Haruo said, clearing the table of his papers, "you got what you wanted. I took the day off. _You_ took the day off. Akira rushed home. Now tell us what this is about."

"Touma, right?" Akira asked rhetorically. "Look, I have to say I agree with Haruo on this one. You're overreacting. Isn't this what we've supposedly been hoping for all these years? Isn't—"

"You talk too much," Natsuki said, fixing him with a glare.

Akira shut his mouth, dismayed.

"Look, Natsuki," Haruo said. "We understand already. You're serious about this. Can we get on with this?"

"Alright," Natsuki said, finally unwinding a little.

He cleared his throat.

"I've taken the liberty of preparing the agenda for this meeting," he said, reaching under the table and handing out three neatly printed sheets of paper.

"Somewhere along the line we started taking these meetings way too seriously," Akira commented, reading his sheet.

"I've told you many times not to interrupt while adults are speaking," Natsuki warned, looking up.

"I'm not that young, you know," Akira said, narrowing his eyes.

"There's nothing more serious than this!" Natsuki asserted.

After a moment of mutual antagonism, they both relaxed.

"Anyway," Natsuki said. "As indicated, I will now begin my explanation of the situation."

They looked at him expectantly.

"I know you two are gladdened by this latest development," Natsuki said, glancing around the table. "It seems to be a reversal of the problems I'm afraid that our negligence has caused her. Akira, review this for us."

Akira sighed.

"It is your assertion that our uselessness and lack of understanding has caused Touma to become way too boyish and detached socially," he said mechanically, conveying his lack of ardor for the conversation. "Therefore we must take steps to rectify this situation."

"For the record, I never did accept this theory," Haruo interjected, adjusting his glasses. "There is such a thing as phases. She was just going through one."

"Majority rules," Natsuki said, looking at him from the corner of his eyes. "Akira agreed with me. You're being stupid. Touma told Fujioka-kun she was a _boy_. I saw her admit it. It's undisputable."

"The dispute is not over whether or not she is getting too boyish," Haruo insisted. "It's over whether it is our fault, and whether we need to fix it."

"You're right, but where are you going with this, Natsuki?" Akira asked, leaning back on his arms. "Doesn't this just mean all your efforts are finally bearing fruit? I mean, just because Touma doesn't seem to hear you doesn't mean she isn't listening. She finally took what you were saying to heart."

"It's too sudden," Natsuki said. "I don't trust it."

"What's wrong with—" Haruo began.

"More importantly," Natsuki continued, overriding the question, "I have other suspicions, which I will now share."

The other two glanced at their agenda sheets. "Discussion of New Touma theory", it said.

Natsuki pulled out a slim picture album from beneath the table.

"I've compiled the pictorial evidence I will need. First, exhibit A and a bit of setup."

He pointed at a picture nestled in the folds of the album.

They leaned over to look.

"It's a picture I got a copy of from Haruka. Ah, Minami-san, I mean. The oldest one. Anyway, this is a beach trip Touma went on last year."

"Oh. I know that girl," Akira said. "Chiaki-chan. The youngest one. The one who keeps inviting Touma to her house."

"Yes, Chiaki," Natsuki said. "This is a picture of her and Touma."

"So they had fun at the beach," Haruo said dryly. "What's your point? You're jealous because you didn't get to go?"

"You're on thin ice," Natsuki warned. "Patience. Exhibit B."

Primary school graduation, the year before. The same two girls, except this time a boy was doing the classic rabbit ears behind Touma's head.

"I took this picture," Natsuki commented.

The entrance ceremony for middle school.

Studying for the entrance exams.

At the pool.

Playing in the snow.

Sleeping together on the floor of the Minami household.

"You exchange a lot of pictures with Haruka, don't you?" Akira commented, looking at the last one.

"That's not the point!" Natsuki said. "It's always those two, in every picture. Even when it's of more than just them, they're always next to each other, leaning on each other, touching each other, something! Especially the touching."

"What are you trying to say, Natsuki?" Haruo asked, narrowing his eyes.

"I'm saying there's something wrong with Touma," Natsuki said. "I'm saying that maybe she's even more boyish than we think."

"Wrong?" Akira asked, looking at him strangely.

"Are you serious?" Haruo asked, in tone of voice that suggested the real question was "Are you crazy?" "Now you're just being delusional! Look, just because your only close friends are that weirdo Hosaka-san and that girl Hitomi-san doesn't mean other people can't have different types of friendships. It's just you. Look, this other kid is in half the pictures too. Why aren't you concocting theories involving him? That's way more plausible."

"I'm saving my best evidence for last. Exhibit H."

He flipped the page.

"The picture is pretty fuzzy, but think it's clear enough."

They stared at the picture of the two girls on the floor for a moment.

"I was visiting the Minami household," he explained. "I took it with my cell phone."

"Okay, I'll grant the postures here are a bit unusual," Haruo said, after a moment, just a little shaken. "But there's plenty of reasonable explanations possible."

"Such as what?"

"I don't know, Haruo," Akira said, considering it. "He's right, this is pretty hard to explain away."

"There's more," Natsuki said.

"This is from the trip to that kid Yoshino-san's place," he commented, pointing at another picture.

This one was a group picture, taken in front of the mansion just before departing.

"I don't see what's so unusual about this." Haruo said, turning the statement into a question.

"Man, it looks awesome," Akira lamented. "I wanted to go…"

"We were imposing on their hospitality enough with me and Touma," Natsuki said. "And actually, I just wanted to show you it. It's a nice picture. Though note those two are standing together again. The unusual one is _this one_."

He flipped the page again, to a page with only picture, of the two of them seated on a bed. They seemed to be having an intense discussion.

"Huh," Akira said, in subdued surprise, but he seemed strangely more skeptical than he did before.

"Okay, again with the unusual posturing," Haruo said. "It's not proof. There is such a thing as talking things over with a friend. You might have just got this picture at a weird moment."

"Maybe," Natsuki said. "But—"

"With all due respect, Natsuki," Akira said, "but isn't this a little creepy? Like you're a stalker?"

"I do what I must," Natsuki said, with severity. "I'm out of pictures. The rest of it you need to believe me. I've seen them together way more than either of you, and it's quite obvious."

"Uh-huh," Haruo said, arms crossed, clearly not buying it.

"Look, you've got some interesting pictures, but you've been stalking her for a year," Akira said. "If I followed _you_ for a year I could find some cool stories too. I could probably 'prove' you're going out with Hitomi or even Hosaka! You're going to need more evidence."

"There's more," Natsuki insisted, ignoring Akira's allegations. "Two weeks ago, I caught her leaving for school with a box of chocolates, a gift, and a letter. I don't have to explain what it is, do I?"

"Really?" Akira asked. "Why didn't you mention this before?"

"Could easily be a boy," Haruo insisted. "That doesn't prove anything."

This time, he looked _very _shaken. He wouldn't believe Natsuki's crazy theories, but here was actual evidence of something going on. He remembered that boy he had seen in the previous picture. Perhaps…

Akira watched him out of the corner of his eye. Haruo blew his top every time anyone mentioned the possibility of Touma getting a boyfriend one day.

"It was _White Day_!" Natsuki exclaimed, raising his arm in exasperation.

"Still," Haruo said. "Who follows these traditions anyway?"

"Natsuki's definitely got a case now," Akira said.

"It doesn't matter if you believe me," Natsuki asserted. "I have a plan we'll both like."

"What is it?" Haruo asked, after a moment.

"I propose that we find out. Touma won't talk to us no matter how we ask, so we send Akira to watch her at school. That way we can catch things we could never catch otherwise."

""What? Hey, wait a second. I know _you're_ a stalker, but—" Akira began.

"We need to do this anyway," Natsuki continued, ignoring him. "You have to admit there's definitely _something _going on."

Haruo nodded thoughtfully.

"Hold on—" Akira tried again.

"This school year is almost over," Natsuki continued. "So probably better if we send him tomorrow."

"Yes, let's do that," Haruo said. "I'm not a fan of spying like this, but if she won't talk to us, we have no choice. And I'll be honest, it will give me some peace of mind to see you proven wrong. There is, after all, the unlikely chance you're right, and then it really becomes a problem."

"Guys—"

"I would point out, though," Haruo said, "that suddenly becoming more girly is usually a sign of having a crush on a boy."

"True, but I think the weight of the evidence is—"

"GUYS!" Akira finally said.

"What?" Natsuki asked, annoyed.

"How can you decide something like this without even asking me? I'm the guy you're telling to do it! I would have to skip school! And are you guys seriously saying we should spy—"

"Look," Natsuki said, "you know I can't skip school without Hitomi-chan going ballistic on me. And do you really want _this guy_ to go instead?"

Natsuki gestured at Haruo.

"You know what I'm saying," he finished.

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" Haruo asked.

"Okay, fine. So I'm the reasonable choice," Akira said. "But still, I'd have to skip school. I have this meeting set up, and we're talking about—"

"I'll call you in sick," Haruo said. "And it's the end of the year, so you won't miss anything important."

"What are you talking about? I have ceremonies and stuff! And—"

"Majority rules," Natsuki said. "We've decided this is necessary. It's come to this."

"How am I even supposed to—"

"You'll figure something out," Natsuki said. "You're pretty smart."

"Well, that's that," Haruo said, wiping his hands on each other, as if disposing of the issue.

"But—"

"Stop arguing!" Natsuki ordered.

Akira flinched.

_Seriously?_

* * *

"Quite a day, huh?" Makoto commented.

The two of them had been riding the bus in silence up until then.

"Yes, yes it has been," Touma said.

"I almost—" Makoto began, then stopped.

Touma looked at him.

"It's like slow torture," he said. "Just sitting here, acting normal, and waiting…"

She observed his pained expression, again so familiar. He looked up.

"I know what you're talking about," she reassured.

He snapped his head away, suddenly.

A moment later, she followed suit, looking out the window, at the streetlamps slowly scrolling by…


	8. The Center Cannot Hold

Author's note: "Aki-chan" is manga-canon. I did not make that stuff about Akira up. For the record.

Updated: 12/20/2011 (Yes it's been a while) Only minor changes. I am surprisingly pleased with how it turned out.

* * *

_I cannot believe I am doing this._

_ "Akira," _Haruo had said that morning, when Akira had complained, it once again dawning on him how absurd his task was._ "You'll figure out a way to do this! You're the most inconspicuous of any of us, and the sneakiest! Surely you'll find a way."_

Oh, yes, a 15-year-old boy sneaking around a middle school campus, trying to stalk both his sister and a group of other people who also knew exactly who he was and what he looked like. Totally inconspicuous.

He grasped his head in a gesture of despair, leaning over on the park bench.

_My brothers are insane! Their plans are lunacy! Why? Why don't I ever point out how ridiculous it all is? How half-baked their ideas are? How stupid it is to hold meetings? Why can't I ever say no?_

It was a rhetorical question, of course. It was for the same reason he had spent the last year of middle school dodging Fujioka, when all he had to do was confront him, once, to clear up the misunderstanding.

_Well_, he thought, smiling wryly. _It's just as well that I didn't. I was wrong about what he was misunderstanding, and thus the misunderstandings would have canceled themselves out and tangled into a—uh—well, twisted themselves into—_

He stopped, somehow having tied his own thoughts into a confused Gordian knot.

_Okay, the point is I would have gotten punched for my trouble_, he concluded, finally._ So it all worked out._

Indeed it had. Having finally gotten a true understanding of the situation, he had realized he could obtain his goals _and_ prove to Fujioka once and for all he had no designs on Kana. Really.

So he asked his true target out.

And she had accepted!

…only to have him cancel at the last minute, because he was "sick".

_Sick spying on my sister. Goddamn, I have no spine at all, do I?_

He startled, finally remembering where he was and what he was doing.

_What the hell am I doing? Spacing out like this on a bench! It's a miracle I haven't been caught!_

He glanced around, looking just as suspicious as he was trying _not_ to be, thankfully saw no one, and decided it was time to switch locations. He hurried around a corner to a different bench.

His plan was simple. From his personal experience, nothing worthwhile happened during the periods of actual classes. The only activity worth observing was before school, at lunch, and after school. Therefore, he would inject himself strategically onto the school grounds only at those times, disguised as a student of the school, doing the best spying he could during those periods. He would spend the time in between moving around, avoiding being seen, and trying to perpetually give the impression that he was merely going to the restroom, running an errand, or briefly resting on a bench.

If he was ever unlucky enough to be challenged, he would use one of these explanations, or claim that he was grabbing a forgotten textbook out of his locker. He had even brought a plausible-looking textbook to back up his cover stories.

Not surprisingly, his early morning observations had proven fruitless. He had seen nothing but Touma and the other students he recognized rush by, most trying to edge in as close to the starting bell as possible. He had even been so bold as to go in and walk right by her classroom as they were getting ready for the day. Nothing, of course.

He had almost given up in disgust on the spot at the unsavory task he was performing. Might as well treat the rest of day as a holiday, call the girl up and say he can make it after all. In fact, he could still do that…

There wasn't even anything to _find_. He was certain. Sure Natsuki had some compelling pictures, but stalk anyone long enough and you could get things like that. He didn't believe a word of it. Maybe there was something going on, but privately, he had already discounted Natsuki's theories. Touma? He didn't see it in her. And unlike his brothers, he didn't believe in the Big Brother style of...being a big brother.

But if he gave up, all his preparation would be wasted, and he didn't want that. He was proud, after all, of the sheer brilliance of his plan, and he wanted to try living life on the edge for a while. A strange part of him enjoyed this sneaking around.

_It is categorically proven. Our bloodline is tainted. We are all insane. I can only hope Touma escaped the family curse._

He scratched at his wig absently.

The irony, which even he had to admit was quite compelling, was that Haruo was right. Akira _had_ figured out a way to hide in plain sight, and he had gotten the idea from his cowardice with regards to Fujioka, even if it had taken him all night to think of.

After all, if a girl's wig was enough to fool Fujioka, then wouldn't transforming himself fully deflect all manner of suspicion? Dressed in the female uniform of the school as he was, casual acquaintances and teachers who had seen him before wouldn't even give him a second look. Even those who knew him would probably walk right by him. Only those who had seen him do so before could unmask him, and even they would probably miss him in a crowd. And weren't girls inherently less suspicious?

Yes, he had been desperate for a solution.

He relied on the amazing ability of the human brain to ignore the sight of anything it didn't expect. Combined with a personal skill of blending into the background, it had enabled him to watch from only a few yards away as a distracted Touma rushed up the stairs with the boy Makoto trailing behind, though admittedly he felt obliged to hide partly behind a tree and another group of girls. Chiaki followed a while later, as the halls were finally emptying. That was when he had swallowed his fear and followed her in, from a safe distance.

Still, he would still try to avoid the gaze of anyone who knew him. Just for safety.

There were other flaws, of course. His short stature helped, as well as the fact that he was about the proper age, but he knew he couldn't mask the many details that would betray him under close inspection. For instance, the fact that his clothing was rather ill-fitting—not surprising considering the uniform belonged to Touma; it had been quite harrowing to secrete it out of her room while she slept. And God forbid he try to talk to anyone for too long.

No, he would avoid all encounters and piercing eyes.

He had made peace a while ago with the process of wearing such a disguise. It didn't hurt, after all, as long as no one knew about it. He just hoped to avoid any unusually perceptive teachers.

He avoided reflecting on it for too long.

He wondered why he enjoyed sneaking around like this. It wasn't like he had ever done it before, but now he was finding it stupidly enjoyable.

_I wonder if there's some sort of practical career application for this. I guess as a spy?_

Maybe it wasn't such a simple plan after all.

"Miss?" said a voice above his right ear.

He literally jumped upward off the bench, and only barely stopped himself from running away as fast as he could. The flower petals that had been gathering unnoticed in his wig scattered to the floor.

"Y—y—yes?" he answered, turning back, trying to speak in a higher voice, not even looking at the man questioning him.

"Ah, well," the unseen voice said, flustered by his reaction, though Akira didn't notice. "I'm here to—"

"I'm only visiting my sister!" he yelled, aware that he was acting way too distressed. "She forgot her lunch and—"

"You left your book on the bench back there! I'm just here to return it to you…"

Finally, Akira looked at the man's face, and the textbook he held in his hand. The groundskeeper looked at him with minor bewilderment,before smiling amiably, trying to signal that he meant no harm.

"Thank you…" he managed, weakly.

The man gave him a last look of concern before turning and walking off.

Akira clutched his heart, breathing heavily.

Then he realized he had given the wrong explanation entirely. Why would any girl, dressed in the uniform of the school, "just be here to visit her sister" and give her her lunch? He wasn't even carrying anything that resembled a bento box.

_I need to get out of here! If he thinks too carefully about what just happened—_

He hurried to the other side of the school.

* * *

Touma sighed volubly.

"How'd I get stuck with this?" she asked, shifting her broom dejectedly.

"It's your fault for zoning out like that in class," Yoshino said. "You didn't respond to the teacher until Misawa walked up and shook you like a snow globe. I haven't seen anyone that out of it since that time Chiaki—"

"Yes, yes, I know. I know. It was rhetorical. The real question here is: why are _you_ here?"

Yoshino swept the floor industriously, contrasting sharply with Touma's efforts, which might generously be described as lackadaisical.

"I volunteered. It helps with my standing. Besides, I figured you'd appreciate the company."

"First time I've heard of anyone _volunteering_ for cleanup duty."

Yoshino just shrugged, leaning over her broom.

"To each their own, I guess," Touma said, finally. "Why do we even need to clean this damn room? They've closed this wing down! No one comes here! Can't it just gather dust?"

Yoshino shrugged again.

"It's only until next year. The senpai say it's because of the termite infestation they found. They had to reinforce it and everything. The inspectors only cleared it again last month. And it makes for good punishment duty."

"I didn't hear anything like that."

"It's because you don't listen," Yoshino responded, in the voice of a girl stating a well-known truism.

After a moment, Touma sighed again.

They swept in silence for a moment, culminating in a two-man routine with broom, dustpan, and the trashcan they had carried with them.

Two steps to Yoshino's right and behind a flimsy cabinet door, Akira shifted nervously. Having somehow gotten lost within the school, a deserted hallway was the perfect shortcut back to where he needed to be—until he spotted Touma and Yoshino coming the other way. He had been compelled to duck hastily into a classroom, and then dive into an equipment cabinet.

_What were the chances they were here to clean this exact room? I'm so unlucky!_

_Well, maybe not, actually_, another part of him countered.

Hiding here as he was, he could hear everything they said, though admittedly somewhat muffled.  
In fact, it seemed safer than his original plan: stand as close as he could to Touma or anyone of interest, pretend to be a third-year senpai there to wait for someone, and hide his face in his textbook.

The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that all three Minami brothers, especially Akira himself, needed to be institutionalized.

If only it weren't so crowded in this damn closet. The mop jammed behind his back and neck was especially irksome.

"Alright!" Yoshino said loudly. "Let's get a mop from that cabinet!"

Akira almost choked, and accidentally kicked a stack of books next to him, which smacked loudly into the wall of the cabinet.

He held his breath, sweating beading down his neck.

"Nah, it's not worth it," Touma said. "For things like this, you really want one of those little rolly-carts. You know, that carry the water with you? I think we can get one from the janitorial closet down the hall. Better mops, too."

It was a long while after hearing their footsteps disappear that he finally heaved a relieved breath. Then he realized he should be escaping.

He pushed the closet door open—only to hear Touma's boyish voice again around the corner.

Too late! He pulled the door back shut.

"Just let me do it, okay?" Touma insisted. "I've got more strength and such."

"Tch. If you insist," Yoshino said, voice reluctant. "I still don't think you should tire yourself out. You've got that big soccer match later."

"Something like this won't be enough to tire me out! Now give me that mop."

_Soccer match? What soccer match?_

Touma hadn't said anything—but then again, she never did.

_It's not like we ever go to any of hers._

He started to sigh, then stopped himself just in time. It was a miracle he hadn't slipped up yet.

"So…" Yoshino began, faux-tentatively.

"Yes?" Touma asked, hunched over her mop.

"So why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?" Touma asked, in a voice that suggested she was being obstructive for the sake of being obstructive.

"You know what I'm talking about," Yoshino responded.

Touma stopped mopping and stood up, not turning around to face her.

"So this was your real agenda, huh?"

"I'm sure you realized that already."

The conversation had become strangely aloof. As carefully as he could, Akira pressed his ear into the cabinet door so he could hear more clearly. His off-hand held the door shut despite his weight leaning against it.

_Paydirt!_

"Isn't that pretty personal?" Touma asked.

"Yes, but I'd like to know. We're close friends, after all. You don't have to tell me, but it's my policy to support my friends in all things. I can't do that very well if I don't know what's going on."

A brief silence.

"Alright, I guess you deserve it. After all, you helped me do this."

Akira had been more successful than he had dared hope, but it wasn't enough to suppress his recurrent pangs of guilt.

"The truth is, I'm not feeling particularly secure," Touma continued, finally turning to look at Yoshino.

"About what?" Yoshino asked, in a tone suggesting she probably already knew.

"You know."

"I see."

"I want to see if everything remains the same. I mean, it's quite likely that in the future I might be obligated to act differently. I want to see if it's real or not, you know? I have to be sure."

_Could this conversation get any vaguer?_ Akira despaired, frustrated.

"I'm sure it is," Yoshino said, gently, after a long moment. "You're worrying too much."

"I know," Touma responded. "But I can't risk it, can I?"

Yoshino thought carefully.

"No, you can't," she agreed, finally, "but I'd worry more about..."

"What?" Touma asked, after a few seconds of silence.

"Nevermind."

_Damn it! Say something I can actually understand! _Akira lamented.

"Can I ask something, then?" Touma asked. "In exchange for telling you all this?"

Yoshino blinked, surprised.

"I don't see why not."

"You and Uchida…are friends, right? Nothing more?"

They stared at each other.

"As far as I know," Yoshino said, looking her straight in the eye. "Why would you think something like that? I assure you there's nothing untoward between us, not similar to what you might be imagining."

"I just wanted to know, I guess. Glad to have that cleared up," Touma said, thinking to herself that Yoshino had worded the statement rather strangely.

From his crowded niche, Akira shared the sentiment.

"Want some advice?" Yoshino asked, suddenly.

"What?"

"If you're going to do something, be careful about it. I don't think you're thinking everything through as well as you think you are. It's just as well that Chiaki is delaying. You're…"

Her voice trailed off.

"I can't believe you're saying this," Touma said. "Do you really think so?"

"I mean what I say."

Another long pause.

"Let's go have lunch, then," Yoshino said, ending the conversation with a radical topic change.

"But we're not—" Touma began.

"Leave it. It'll be fine," she insisted.

"They do inspec—"

"I'll take of it," Yoshino said, with a tone of finality. "If we try to finish, we won't have time to eat. You need to eat for the game. I'll take care of it."

"I see," Touma consented, surprised by Yoshino once again. "Should I—"

"Leave the mop here."

After a moment, the sound of their footsteps receded.

A few minutes later, Akira staggered out of the closet, glad to be in fresh air and open space.

_That was interesting_, he reflected, when he was done breathing in the air. _At the very least, something is going on._

He paused to consider the situation.

_I need to remember to apologize to Yoshino-san for this, someday, _he mused. _Oh, and Touma. Somehow…_

But Yoshino was right. There was limited time left in this lunch break, and he had something he needed to do. He hated it, wanting nothing better than to slink off somewhere and hide, but his instincts told him he needed to _act_.

He walked down the hall.

It took him surprisingly little time to find what he was looking for. He looked over his clothing and skirt one last time, surreptitiously glanced at his reflection in a window, and swallowed. Hard.

"Yo," he greeted nervously to a trio of third-year girls chatting in the hallway.

They looked at him curiously.

"I'm new here. A transfer student. I heard there was some sort of soccer match today?"

"Soccer match?" one of them repeated quizzically, furrowing her brow. "I don't think—"

_What nice long hair_, part of him commented, inanely.

"Yes! Yes, there is!" a second one interjected, with surprising enthusiasm, leaning forward, face beaming. "You're interested? You can come with me if you want! It's the title match! What do you say?"

"Uh—" he began, taken aback by the strong reaction.

"Ignore her," said the third girl, pushing the second girl bodily out of the way. "She's got this absurd crush on the star of the girls' soccer team. A third-year pining over a first year! Have you heard of such a thing? What a pervert."

"Is that the kind of thing to say about your friend?" the second girl protested.

"The star of the soccer team?" Akira echo.

"If you really care," the third girl said, ignoring the second's protests. "I think the name is Minami. You'll hear about her. Best not to get involved in her weird fanclub."

_Title match? Star? Crush? _ he thought, subsuming his continued bewilderment beneath a mildly bemused mask.

"That's a mean thing to say," the long-haired girl pointed out.

"I told you, it's not a crush!" the second girl added.

"If you really want to go, I can take you," the third girl said, toying with her cropped hair, "I probably have the time, and I guess I should support our school. Plus I need to keep an eye on this one."

She gestured at the girl behind her with her eyes, making it clear who she meant.

"No, no, that's alright," he said, waving his hands. "I was just curious. I don't have time today, actually. I just heard some people talking about it."

"We can show you around tomorrow," the soccer fanatic offered. "Come find us in class 3-2."

"I've already been shown around," he said, trying to duck out of the obligation, "but thanks for the offer."

Now that he knew the facts, he needed to move quickly. He was in a hurry to leave.

"Isn't it sort of strange transferring in this close to the end of the year?" the long-haired girl asked, tilting her head thoughtfully. "I mean, exams are almost over, and all that's left is the graduation ceremony."

_Shit, shit._

"Ah, well, I know I'm pretty tall," he said, chuckling nervously, "but I'm actually only a second-year. I figured I'd take a week to get used to the school. It was an emergency move, so…"

"I guess that makes sense," commented the second girl, who seemed to be eying his flat chest as if to say "Oh, that makes sense now".

"Geez, what is this, the inquisition?" asked the short-haired girl, waving them aside. "Come on, give her some space."

"No, it's entirely fi—" he began.

The tones indicating the end of the lunch period sounded through the intercom. They waited for it to finish.

"I guess we should get going," the girl said. "Too bad we're graduating. Nice to meet you, uh…"

She was clearly fishing for a name. Not having prepared one, Akira impulsively gave the name most familiar to him.

"Aki-chan! You can call me Aki-chan!"

_Goddamn it, why did I tell them that?_

"Nice to meet you, Aki-chan," the girl repeated. "Stop by class 3-2 tomorrow anyway. We'll give you advice and stuff. Don't be intimidated by the senpai."

"Thank you. I'll come if I can," he said, already feeling guilty for not showing up.

"Oh, we should introduce ourselves," the girl said.

"No need! We need to get to class," he said, "Tell me tomorrow!"

He ran off before they could protest.

"What a strange girl," the long-haired girl commented, a moment later.

* * *

"What do you mean, you can't make it?" Akira demanded, practically yelling into his cell phone.

"It means I can't!" Natsuki snapped back. "I already took the day off yesterday. They'll practically hang me if I take today off!"

"But it's the title match! I know she didn't tell us, but we can't _not _go. We have to show up!"

"I know! I care too, but I can't lose this job!"

"Isn't Hosaka the head chef? Have him vouch for you."

"I've already played that card too many times. I can't—"

Akira felt something give inside him, broken under the same impetus that had earlier urged him to talk to those girls.

_I refuse to accept these damn apologies!_

"You say you care, but all I see is a man who didn't even bother to check on how she was doing and had no clue what was even going on! I thought I could rely on you! Screw you, then!"

He hung up with a snap, realizing it was the first time he had told off Natsuki in years.

What was wrong with them? They said they cared, but they couldn't be bothered to inconvenience themselves. He had called Haruo earlier, and could still hear his voice even now.

_"I'm sorry. I just can't drag myself away."_

"Bastards," he said, to no one in particular.

Sighing, he continued the long walk home in disguise, not in the mood to take the faster bus. He would go alone, _without_ his wig, even if it caused the others to bite their tongues around him. He didn't care. She needed to see him there.

He needed to change, and to take a nap.

_Wait, if I needed time for a nap, I shouldn't have walked._

…_damn it._

* * *

"_It is my opinion that this experience is good for you," Kana had said, looking at her fingernails, arm outstretched._

_Chiaki had just looked back at her, left hand holding the barely-touched takoyaki platter._

"_But it is apparently not so good for Haruka," Kana continued, dropping her arm back to the bench and closing her eyes briefly. "I didn't expect this to affect her so much. Can you see what kind of stress she's under? I'm worried."_

"_I—" Chiaki began._

"_I don't say this lightly," Kana added, overriding her and eyes downcast. "Ordinarily, I would give you as much time as you need. That's what I wanted to do. But…I don't want to see her like this. You're her sister as much as I am. Please, try to resolve things as fast as you can. Or even—"_

_Kana paused briefly before continuing._

"_If you tell them it's too early, and you want to wait a couple of years, that would be okay too, I guess. It _is_ early, after all. It's just that that doesn't…"_

Kana never had finished that sentence.

_Resolve it, huh?_ Chiaki thought, looking out of the corner of her eye at Makoto, who was chatting with, of all people, Kana. They were seated near the soccer field, prepping to watch Touma's soccer match.

_Damn it! _She thought, clenching her fists. _Why did this have to impact Haruka too?_

She instinctively looked towards Haruka, who looked back queryingly. Chiaki looked away.

Just another source of pressure. She wasn't sure how much more she could take. She had known for the entire week that she couldn't drag it on forever, but she had done nothing but push it out of her mind every time it came up. She just didn't want to think about it, run her mind through the same worn circles over and over and _over_—

"Chiaki!" Yoshino said, interrupting her reverie, and leaning over and waving a hand in her face.

"You okay?" Uchida asked, leaning over at the far side of Yoshino. "You seem really out of it."

"I'm fine," Chiaki insisted automatically.

"Touma's here!" Haruka said, getting their attention and pointing.

Chiaki and Yoshino's heads moved in synchrony to follow her finger.

Touma had finished changing into their team uniform and had apparently found the time to come over and talk to them. They had all turned out for this game, with Kana having invited Haruka and Fujioka needing no inviting.

Makoto had already jumped up to greet her. Chiaki started to get up as well.

"Those two are surprisingly close, aren't they?" Yoshino asked rhetorically.

"Yes, they are—" Chiaki began, then snapped her eyes in Yoshino's direction, triggered by something about the way she had said it. It was ludicrous to infer so much meaning in a minor statement like that, but something about the tone of voice…

And she had learned over time how Yoshino liked to start things.

They made eye contact.

Chiaki narrowed her eyes.

"What are you—"

"Yo," Touma said, suddenly looming over her shoulder.

They returned the greeting.

"Chiaki," Touma said, with just a shade of discomfort. "After this game, I—"

She froze, suddenly looking behind Chiaki instead of at her.

* * *

What Akira saw when finally arrived at the soccer field—after drastically oversleeping and somehow ignoring his alarm—did much to dissolve his anger, both at his brothers and himself.

_Natsuki!_

He sprinted forward towards the figures talking excitedly seated on the grass.

"—cup noodles are the best flavor!" yelled Chiaki, palm jammed into Kana's mouth. "Don't listen to Kana. She's a baka-yaro!"

"I see…" responded Hitomi, who regretted having started this topic.

"Now, now, it's nothing to get worked up about," Haruka insisted, trying, along with Makoto, to separate the two of them while somehow still smiling amiably at Hitomi.

Yoshino just smiled cryptically.

"Nat—Natsuki," Akira said, breathing slightly heavily.

Natsuki turned to face him.

"I thought you weren't—" Akira began.

"I promised to work overtime for a week," Natsuki interrupted, his voice…just a little flatter than usual? Akira couldn't be sure.

"Same for me," Haruo said, leaning back onto the grass.

"We changed his mind," commented Hitomi, chewing on the straw for her drink. She gestured at Haruka, who was too busy lecturing Kana and Chiaki to pay Akira any mind.

Akira wondered just how that had come about.

Natsuki pretended to watch the field—or so it seemed to Akira.

Fujioka looked at Akira, but for once he wasn't glaring in suspicion, but instead looked rather worried.

That should have been his first real hint.

"It's as I feared, though," Natsuki said, his voice sounding different than usual. "It only pissed her off. She didn't invite us, after all."

A sudden silence, perhaps triggered by the marked difference In Natsuki's voice. Chiaki stopped shoving Kana, Yoshino stopped chatting with Uchida, Makoto stopped talking with Haruka, and it became apparent that they had all simultaneously decided to try and listen in without being noticed. Even Fujioka was leaning noticeably towards the left. Their collective action had blown their cover, though.

"I'm sure she didn't mean it, Natsuki," Haruka said, looking pained. "I'm sure…she's happy you came."

"That's right; she just…" Hitomi began, her voice trailing off.

The atmosphere had pivoted instantly into one of shock. Shell-shocked—that was perhaps the best way to describe their demeanors.

After a moment, Uchida looked up at Akira.

"Touma came by earlier. She was…she wasn't happy to see you guys."

Her eyes showed a mixture of confusion, hurt, and a newfound distrust.

He realized that the typical camaraderie he had first seen when he arrived was only a thin veneer over what had happened earlier. And his arrival had ripped it right back off.

His mood, which had improved greatly when he spotted Natsuki watching the game, instantly returned to its previous sense of despondency. He sat down between his brothers.

He watched Touma gesture while running down the right end of the field, uncharacteristically long hair tied back. The signs indicated the score was 3-1 in their favor.

_Where did—_

"—we go wrong?" Natsuki whispered, almost inaudible.

They looked at each other, both realizing they had accidentally said their thoughts out loud.

* * *

Touma's team won the game, and the title, 4-3, on a nearly last-second tie-breaking goal. It was a rousing end to an almost perfect season, but Touma looked strangely ambivalent accepting the well-worn, oft-exchanged trophy. True, it was not exactly an unprecedented accomplishment, but she didn't look nearly excited enough. So her teammates thought.

They clapped and cheered, and when she broke away from her celebrating teammates to meet them, Fujioka forgot the situation and gave her a congratulatory headrub.

But then an awkward silence descended.

Even Kana seemed unable to restore the situation to normalcy, and after a long moment where she clearly was struggling about what to say, she started gesturing at Akira to say something, anything, before finally elbowing him in the side.

Startled out of his trance, he opened his mouth—

"Natsuki—" Touma began, face contrite.

"Save it," Natsuki snapped back, fury suddenly showing on his face. "I don't want to hear it."

"Hey, Natsuki," Haruo said, grabbing his arm.

"Please, Aniki," Touma said, simultaneously.

"Not now, Natsuki," Hitomi begged, eyes wide.

He said nothing, his anger telegraphed for all to see. He was struggling to contain it, knowing he shouldn't concede to it, but he was just so, _so _frustrated.

"Natsuki," Haruka said, trying to stay level, "Touma has a team celebration to attend, but she's going to leave early. I…have a celebration ready afterwards. I have more than enough food. Please, I know what she said—please, please overlook it. Let her apologize. _Please—"_

None of them had ever heard her plead so hard for anything, and it showed on their faces.

Natsuki's face crumpled, just a little.

He turned away, sharply.

"I'm sorry. I just can't. Not now."

He walked away.

After a desperate look back, Haruo followed, still grabbing Natsuki's arm, still trying to stop him.

Later, Akira would wonder if things would have been different had he followed, as he almost did. If he had instead futilely tried to get Natsuki to turn back, hadn't thought of the importance of staying, so that someone, him at least, would be there when Touma returned later.

But something told him to stay.

"Touma!" Chiaki and Makoto's rang out simultaneously when she rather brusquely pushed Hitomi aside and staggered back towards her team. Yoshino grabbed her by the arm.

"Please," she said, looking back, eyes conflicted, weakly smiling. "I'm fine. My teammates, they'll wonder what I'm doing. I'll be back later. Just—just leave me alone for now."

Not one of them believed she was fine, but Yoshino let go. Uchida stepped forward, but thought better of it. Kana put a hand up to keep Fujioka back. Makoto wore an extremely pained expression.

They watched her walk off.

* * *

The victory celebration—or defeat consolation party, as it would have been had they lost—was understandably rather subdued. Haruka immediately shut herself in the kitchen with Hitomi, and the rest half-heartedly played a card game on the kotatsu. They soon gave up any pretense, and Makoto and Chiaki retreated to Chiaki's room, while Yoshino and Uchida tried to find some way they could be useful in the kitchen.

Akira felt like the odd man out, even after Hitomi thanked him for staying.

"Is your family really this dysfunctional?" Fujioka asked, finally speaking. The only one still in the room with Akira, he seemed uncertain whether to be angry or sympathetic.

"I—" Akira began, but realized he wasn't sure what to say. He scratched the sole of his foot nervously.

"Apparently so," he concluded, finally.

Fujioka looked like he wanted to say something else, but thought better of it.

When Touma finally showed up at the door, looking dangerously calm, it was as if Godot had finally arrived, as everyone found some excuse to crowd the door and greet her. She said nothing, just grabbed Akira by the collar, pulled him outside, and explained to the rest that she "needed to talk to him", before closing the door. They understood.

After letting go of his collar, she leaned over the balcony, looking at the flowering trees below.

"To—Touma?" he ventured after a long moment of silence.

She sighed loudly.

"You weren't even there to see what happened. Why couldn't he have just stayed?"

She punctuated this by slamming her fist into the balcony railing.

Akira didn't need cuing to know she was talking about Natsuki.

"He looked pretty unhappy," he said, as noncommittally as he could.

"It's my fault," she said. "Given what I said, I don't blame him for being mad."

"What did you say anyway?" Akira asked.

"I don't want to repeat it," Touma said, turning and leaning on the rail, looking at Akira briefly. It still unnerved him slightly that she was as tall as he was. Wasn't she cold in that skirt? Why was she wearing that skirt? He still didn't know. And why the hell was he thinking about this at a moment like this?

"I said what you might expect," she continued, looking down. "I didn't invite you guys. So, you know, I said I didn't want him here, I didn't want any of you here, why can't you just leave me alone. You know, that kind of stuff."

"You—" Akira began.

"I've never seen him that shocked," she continued, not wanting to stop. "I regretted it the moment I said it. I should have taken it back instantly, but I couldn't, you know? I just wanted to get out of there."

"Why?" Akira asked, realizing he had been preparing for this conversation ever since he had had his expectations destroyed at the soccer game. "Do you really hate him—do you really hate _us_ that much? I was the one who got us all to show up, you know. I yelled at Natsuki. Yelled! You're telling me I shouldn't have even bothered? I show up and I find all my effort is wasted, worse than wasted!"

He delivered this steadily, not really angry so much as frustrated at how wrong he had been, but he found, to his surprise, that his voice had a slight edge to it.

"So it was you," Touma said, as an afterthought.

She turned and grabbed his shoulders.

"I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to—I promise I won't do it again. I was stressed. I had things planned, I didn't expect him there, I wasn't thinking straight. I—"

She dropped her arms and huddled herself.

"I'm sorry, okay? What else can I say?"

"It's okay," he said, eventually. What else could he say? He didn't have a clue.

"I don't think I will get Natsuki to talk to me," she added, this time making eye contact. "At least not today. Could you tell him that I'm sorry? I appreciate it. I really do. I just wasn't thinking straight."

She had grabbed his shoulder again, a gesture more of male familiarity than female. He glanced at it, thinking to grab her hand, but he desisted.

"I will," he said, nodding.

After a moment, she headed for the door, thinking to go back.

"Wait," Akira said.

She looked back.

"What's going on, Touma?" he asked. "You say you're stressed, and I can tell, too. You've never been more distant. You won't even pretend to talk to us. Is there something going on? Please, let us help."

She looked at him carefully.

He deliberately pleaded her with his eyes.

"Someday," she said. "Not now. Especially not now."

"Why?" he asked. "Why can't you trust us?"

Her face darkened.

"Tell me, Aniki, what exactly do you guys think of me?"

"What?"

"I'm too boyish, aren't I? I don't dress right, do I? I spend too much of my time playing games and reading manga, right? And not even the right kind. You're not really sure if my devotion to soccer is such a great idea."

"No, of course we don't—" he began automatically.

"Admit it!" she interrupted, impatient. "You guys think I need to be 'fixed'! I've heard you talking about it, so just save it! How can I talk to you, when you think everything I do is wrong somehow?"

"We don't think that!" he insisted. "We just want the best for you. I mean, we know we haven't been the best brothers, and maybe you've been lacking…"

He let himself fall silent. He was rehashing Natsuki and, indeed, his own arguments, but he realized that the words were like poison in her ears.

"And that's what I mean," she said bitterly.

Akira had a brief vision of himself, earlier that day, dressed as "Aki-chan". It hit him like a thunderbolt, hard enough that he pressed his hand to his forehead.

_What does that have to do with anything? No, wait, wait. I see it…_

_Still, it's not the same!_

"Whatever," Touma said, watching him. "Whether it's your fault or not, I'm not going to change now."

With that, she turned, opened the door, and walked in to greet the rest of them.

He followed a while later.

There was still something here he couldn't quite grasp.

* * *

Dinner that night followed, as always, Haruka's exacting standards and the tension in the air leaked away, as it always did after some of her food. To Kana's great pleasure, there was even a great surplus. Reflecting on this fact, Akira realized that he had never once observed Kana go on a diet or do anything even resembling slowing down her eating. And yet, he admitted to himself, her figure was quite good.

It must be something about the energy with which she carried herself.

_Ah! Fujioka's watching me, look somewhere else!_

On the other end of the spectrum, Uchida and Yoshino apparently enjoyed bickering about food; specifically, Yoshino appeared to be concerned that Uchida was eating too much. She seemed fine to him—but it was none of his business.

It also seemed to him that Chiaki was doing her level best to avoid eating too much without appearing to be on a diet.

He was not the only one who caught that impression.

Makoto looked around nervously, as if considering whether or not to say something.

Finally, he leaned over and said something in her ear, which he lip-read.

_That takes a lot of guts to say_, he noted. _Are they closer than I thought?_

"Mind your own business, pervert," she said back, in a voice apparently intended for private consumption, but which was quite clear even across the table.

Haruka, seated at Akira's right, narrowed her eyes.

"Eat your vegetables, Chiaki," she said in a stern voice. "He's right; you won't grow up right if you don't eat properly."

_Vegetables?_ He thought, briefly surprised. He quickly realized what his mistake had been.

"See?" she said, loudly this time. "You blew my cover!"

"You're the one who can't talk quietly!" Makoto shot back.

He suppressed a smile at their antics.

"I thought she was okay with vegetables now," he commented, question implicit.

"Well, she doesn't spit them out anymore," Kana said, leaning over to move some of the food in question into Chiaki's plate with chopsticks.

Chiaki looked at her, annoyed, aware Kana was deliberately tweaking her, but assented due to Haruka's expression.

"Doesn't mean I like them," she settled for grumbling.

Akira glanced left. Touma ate mechanically, eating great quantities of food but without her usual post-game ravenous hunger. Not that she carried an aura of gloom, exactly; she just wasn't contributing to the conversation in her usual way.

He nudged her, trying to signal that they shouldn't let their own domestic problems intrude on others.

She didn't respond.

"Hey, come on, it will be okay," he even ventured to say, quietly. "Come on, cheer up. Natsuki will forgive you."

He knew it wasn't something as simple as that, but what could he do? Their family reputation was bad enough as it was.

"I doubt it will be 'okay'," she muttered darkly.

Still, she nodded, and with surprising adroitness, struck up the conversation with Fujioka about the soccer game that he had been desperately wanting to have, judging by his immediate enthusiastic response.

After Fujioka accepted the overture with great enthusiasm, Akira noticed Chiaki and Makoto exchange glances.

The rest of the meal proceeded in pretty much the same fashion, culminating in Haruka prevailing on him and Touma to take the leftover food home with them. It was a reminder to Natsuki to make peace, he knew, conveyed by her implicit presence.

In return, he was able to convince Haruka to allow him to help with the cleanup and the dishes, and also to convince Yoshino and Uchida not to help. Ideally, Touma would help as well, but she vanished quickly with the others into a back room. Ah, well.

Makoto stopped him in the empty hallway after he finished with the dishes.

"Akira-san," he began, tentatively.

"Yes?" he asked, warily, sensing the unusualness of the situation.

Makoto seemed to struggle with his words, his face producing a series of expressions before he pinned Akira with his eyes, expression finally settling on determined.

"Please promise me that no matter what happens, you'll patch things together and support her. Touma is—well, she doesn't always do smart things. She's very conflicted. You have to understand."

Akira's eyes widened, just a tiny bit. He was starting to think—

"Please!" Makoto pleaded. "I just can't take seeing anyone that unhappy. It—"

"I will!" Akira said, taken aback. "Of course I will! She's my sister. Even Natsuki—he just gets angry easily. Give him a day or so; he'll be fine."

"I hope you will," Makoto said, letting him go.

Makoto didn't follow him down the hallway.

In Chiaki's room, he found Yoshino, Uchida, Kana, and Fujioka seated in a circle focusing on a card game. He sat down, preparing to relax a little by watching—and then realized something.

"Where's Touma?" he asked.

"Touma?" Uchida asked. "Isn't she up there helping you guys with the dishes?"

Well, it wasn't that big a deal. She was probably in the bathroom or something—

He had a flash of intuition.

He stood up immediately, mumbled something about hearing Haruka calling for him, and hurried out the door.

As he expected, Makoto grabbed him by the sleeve as he passed by.

"Where are you going?" Makoto asked, pointedly looking at a nearby wall.

"Outside," Akira said, "I want some fresh air."

Makoto looked up.

"Look," Makoto said. "I understand your feelings, but we—Chiaki and I, that is—agreed that they should talk about this. It's always helped before. J—Just stay out of this, okay? Just for now. She'll tell you about it soon."

Akira thought about that. It seemed logical, but his instincts…

He broke out of Makoto's grasp and headed rapidly for the door.

"Hey!" Makoto yelled at him from behind, but he ignored him, reaching for the doorknob.

* * *

_Why? Why did this have to happen?_

Touma lamented miserably, leaning on the bathroom counter.

_Why today? Why couldn't I—_

She shook her head violently. She didn't dare say anything out loud, no matter how much she wanted to.

_I had everything planned out! It was all going to work! And then Natsuki showed up—_

No, of course it wasn't his fault. If she had just kept her cool, nothing would have happened. She would have just had to wait a day, do something tomorrow instead of today. Easy.

Except something had snapped. All at once, everything had piled up. The stress of the situation, the importance of the day, the expectations she placed on herself, in every aspect. Natsuki's slight smile—extremely unusual for him—had started to look like a sneer. Her frustration at her brothers' cluelessness, her frustration at herself—

She took a deep breath. Took a moment to wipe off the one tear that had escaped her right eye.

Looking at it objectively, it wasn't as bad as all that. The stress had gotten to her; she had lashed out, like she had done so many times in the past. It was a habit, like trying to headbutt Natsuki. And then she couldn't stop. She couldn't _stop_—

She put her hand to her head, incidentally mopping up the bead of sweat that had started rolling down her forehead.

_No, come on; breathe! Breathe!_

She looked up at herself in the bathroom mirror. She looked horrible. She had maintained her composure through dinner, then misled everyone into thinking she was somewhere other than where they were—an impressive feat of social engineering—so she would have time alone.

_Time to huddle in the bathroom like a drama queen._

She had never come closer to a breakdown, and she knew it.

_I have to talk to her. I have to._

She held onto the conviction that Chiaki would save her, like the savior she imagined her to be.

She stood there, leaning over the sink, fist planted on the counter, pulling herself together.

Finally, she straightened up, smoothed out her hair, wiped her face.

_I think I'm okay. I can go back out._

Earlier, she had decided that today would be the day she would tell her brothers everything. It was too much to keep back now.

_But not today. Not anymore._

Their reaction would have been harsh under normal circumstances, but she knew Natsuki; he had difficulty keeping his anger under control at the best of times. She would be horribly tempting fate.

_But when then?_

After she had patched things up, however long that would take.

_But what about—_

"I won't put it off! Those two things aren't connected—"

She clasped her hands over her mouth.

_Shit. Well, most likely no one heard me._

_But how can I even find someplace safe to do it?_

She took a deep breath, preparing to go back out—and literally jumped when someone knocked on the door.

"I know you're in there," Chiaki said through the door. "Get out here; I need to talk to you."

_Right on cue_, she thought, smiling to herself.

Touma unlocked and opened the door.

She beheld that strange pair of eyes Chiaki had when she acted brusque but was secretly concerned.

"Let's go," Chiaki said, pointing at the front door behind her with her thumb.

They snuck out quietly, shuffling past the kitchen, where Akira and Haruka were chatting while washing dishes.

Touma shut the door behind her.

"We—" Chiaki began.

Touma held up her hand.

"Could we go farther down? Like to the bench at that bus stop over there?"

She pointed down to across the street.

"For more privacy," she explained.

Chiaki regarded her carefully.

"It'll be cold, but alright," she said, nodding.

They rode the elevator down in silence, but Chiaki started talking before they finished crossing the street.

"I've honestly never liked Natsuki," she said, matter-of-factly.

"You don't?" Touma responded.

Chiaki snorted.

"You should have seen the way he behaved that one time he visited. He—no, wait, you were there!"

"I was?"

"You remember: that one time? When he wanted you to start coming home earlier?"

"Oh, that."

Natsuki really was a social idiot sometimes.

"And I don't like how close he's trying to get to Haruka," Chiaki continued, looking as if she found it distasteful.

"Ah, well, that—" Touma began, feeling vaguely like she needed to defend her brother.

"But none of that justifies your behavior!" Chiaki said, turning. They had reached the bench Touma had pointed out, but at the moment neither had any intention of sitting down.

"Why didn't you invite him?" Chiaki asked. "I assumed you asked and he turned you down!"

Touma held a stiff expression. The wind stirred the tree standing over the bench, sending a large batch of flower petals fluttering downward.

"I should have asked instead of assuming," Chiaki said, in a disappointed voice.

"I had a reason," Touma said, voice weak. "I mean, I wanted to…"

She found she couldn't finish the sentence, mouth opening and closing. This wasn't going to the way she had imagined it.

"And what was that tantrum about?" Chiaki demanded, following her typical approach to this kind of situation. "None of us could figure it out! I asked Makoto, Yoshino, Kana—no one had a clue! Do you really hate Natsuki that much? He was only trying to support you! He didn't deserve what you said at all!"

Touma knew she couldn't stop the breakdown now; she could feel her face crumpling, couldn't even slow it down. She was losing it.

"Did he do something to deserve—" Chiaki continued, demanding, but losing momentum, seeing a drastically unexpected reaction.

"No! Of course he didn't deserve it!" Touma yelled, squeezing her eyes shut, as if that would somehow stop the tears. "He didn't deserve any of it!"

Chiaki took an involuntary step back.

"It's so stupid!" Touma said, eyes open now, tears flowing uncontrollably. "I couldn't—my brothers didn't prepare me for anything! I know they were doing their best! I know they didn't know what they were doing! None of it matters!"

"Touma…" Chiaki began, thinking back to the last time she had seem something like this. Only this time she was on the receiving end, and she had no idea what to say.

No, it was not just that; this seemed so familiar...

Touma's voice shook measurably with the effort of continuing to talk despite her outright sobs.

"I couldn't do a thing! Everyone hated me. I couldn't find anyone willing to accept me! I was too different; my brothers had made me too different, and I hated it! My life was hell, and I was miserable, do you understand? I hated them for what they had done to me, but I couldn't change! I. Can't. Change."

Running out of energy, she stood there, heaving sobs, fists clenched at her sides.

Chiaki, strangely, had always suspected that Touma was intrinsically unstable.

"I was so miserable, don't you understand?" Touma added, quietly, sniffing slightly. "I thought I would be trapped forever."

She stayed silent for so long, Chiaki finally felt emboldened enough to begin:

"I had no idea," she began, rather lamely. "But I think I understand. Still, Touma, you—"

—_have to forgive them_, is what she wanted to say, but Touma surprised her by grabbing her by the shoulders.

"No, you don't," Touma said, voice unexpectedly firm. "I've always understood that it wasn't their fault. But I needed something to blame. Someone to blame for the pain. But it was never anyone's fault, except maybe my own.

Touma pinned her with a strangely determined look, tear tracks still visible on her face but demeanor entirely different.

"Don't say that," Chiaki said. "It's not your fault. How could it be your fault?"

"I was the one who let myself be trapped so easily. I was the one who let my behavior wall me in. But I couldn't see that. I _just couldn't_ see it."

"No, don't say—"

"Of course I will say it! You're the one who freed me!" Touma said, almost as loud as she had yelled before. "You saved me from myself. You accepted me. Do you know how grateful I am for that? How much I love you for it?"

"I—I—" Chiaki stuttered, caught completely off-guard. Touma had not let go of her shoulders.

"All I wanted today," Touma said, "was for you to save me again. I wanted proof that it was all _right_. That I wouldn't have to change. That's why I blew up at Natsuki. And I'm not leaving until I get it!"

Chiaki, looking up into the much taller girl's eyes with amazement, suddenly knew, somehow, what Touma was talking about. Chiaki compressed a week's worth of thought and self-debate into seconds—and decided there was something she definitely had to ask first.

"But Touma, are you sure—"she started to say, but by then it was already too late.

Touma leaned over, pulling Chiaki up, pressing their lips together, just as they had done before, just as they had practiced.

And Touma looked her straight in the eyes.

It was just as Touma remembered. Every nuance, every slight shift. In that moment, she _knew_.

As Chiaki closed her eyes, relented, Touma observed the sakura petals that had settled into the long hair she loved so much.

_So cliché_, the distant, rational part of her thought, thoroughly ignored by every part of her that mattered. _But that's what I wanted, right? That's what I planned for, from the very beginning. And it happened, despite everything._

Something still nagged at her.

Then she closed her eyes, and gave herself up to the moment.

* * *

"Minami-san!" Makoto shouted, giving up stealth now that he saw Akira opening the door. Makoto started sprinting towards him. Damn it, he was too late!

Akira had already opened the door, stepped into the balcony corridor—and there was no one outside.

"Wha—?" Makoto asked, surprised, barely stopping himself. Akira looked just as surprised.

_What am I doing?_, Akira asked himself. _Even if they were out here, what could I possibly achieve by surprising them like this? And see, they're not even here!_

But it didn't make any sense. Where could they be then?

"Please go back inside," Makoto begged, pulling at his arm. "They're only talking about what happened with Natsuki. A little bit of privacy…"

_He's right_, Akira thought. _Am I that degenerate? There's no reason for me to listen. This kind of lack of thoughtfulness is exactly why she hates us. I should go back._

But it had seemed so _clear_. They _must_ be outside, and he had to go—do what? Say what? The instincts he relied upon had screamed at him to come out here, but didn't tell him a thing about what to do. They had already misled him once today—

Then he saw it.

He pressed up against railing wall, leaned over it slightly. There was no mistaking what this was. His face was frozen into open-mouthed shock. Never, despite all he had thought about it, all of Natsuki's theories, had he truly considered the possibility—

"What? What is it?" Makoto asked, before following Akira's eyes.

Makoto's face looked just as absolutely shocked as Akira's, but seconds later morphed into a combination of jealousy and anger that Akira would have been all too familiar with.

But then it shifted _again_, into the direst kind of troubled confusion.

Akira, however, was far too preoccupied to notice any of this. He was too focused on the scene below, which seemed like the culmination of every one of his brothers' nightmares.

_Where did we go wrong?_


	9. Things Fall Apart

_Author's note: Somewhere along the line of writing all this, I accidentally turned Yoshino into one of my favorite characters. If it hasn't been apparent, it will only grow more obvious._

_Update 2/1/2012: Grammar, minor detail reconciliation. These later chapters seem a lot smoother…_

* * *

Touma finally came up for air, eyes opening. She looked down into the eyes of the girl in her arms for a long moment. That position, Chiaki leaning into her neck, so that she could feel her breath…it triggered in her thoughts of finding someplace truly private, to learn.

She satisfied herself with running her hand through Chiaki's hair, aware that such thoughts were once again surfacing because the lock she had placed on them was now irretrievably shattered. There was no more reason to doubt; the attraction was there, both ways. Touma had felt it in the kiss.

_Coup de main, huh?_

So what had that twinge of dissatisfaction been?

_No, forget about it—_

In one motion, Chiaki extracted herself from her arms.

They made eye contact, Touma already feeling that the situation had shifted.

"You're not sure," Chiaki said, eyes moving downward. "She was right. None of us are sure. I felt you twitch…"

Her voice trailed off, her arms almost huddling herself in the cold.

"It's not so easy," Chiaki said, with a crooked smile. Was she talking to Touma, or herself?

Suddenly, Chiaki did a perfect about-face, turning on her heel, and started heading back, not exactly walking, but not exactly running either.

"Chiaki, wait!" Touma said, arm out-stretched, but Chiaki did not respond.

_Damn it. She? Who is she talking about? And what...was that twitch, anyway?_

She clenched her fists, momentarily frustrated, then started following her back.

* * *

Akira was jolted into action.

"Inside," he growled, grabbing Makoto, who by now was wearing a profoundly anguished expression, by the collar and shutting the door behind him.

"Is something—" Haruka began, sticking her head around the corner, but the closed bathroom door muffled any of her further words.

"So this is what you were hiding from us?" Akira demanded, finally letting Makoto go, but standing firmly in front of the door. Akira had barely had time to process the implications of what he had seen, but this he knew: he needed answers.

The kid looked almost like he wouldn't respond, leaning back against the counter, recoiling from Akira, but he finally said:

"Yes. Yes it is."

"That's not all, is it?" Akira asked, still insistent but no longer growling, anger already washing away.

He wasn't Natsuki after all.

For some reason, however, what he said stirred Makoto to vigor.

"Why should I tell you?" he yelled back, suddenly angry and pointing an accusing finger. "Your own sister hates you! You—you've done nothing but hurt her! No wonder she doesn't want anything to do with you!"

That struck a nerve.

"You—" Akira began, gathering a head of steam.

He stopped when he heard the front door opening. They held their breath until, after an agonizingly long wait, they heard footsteps pass by. But he was now newly angry.

"I wouldn't despair so much," he said to Makoto, even and cold. "After all, it didn't seem Chiaki was very happy with it. You still have a chance at Touma. If you—"

Akira had prepared a biting line to follow, but Makoto snapped before he could even say anything truly stinging.

"You—how could you—what the hell are you saying? Screw you! I—I…"

Makoto's face twisted again into considerable anguish and he leaned on the counter again. Akira began to regret what he had said. Seeing someone looking like that reminded him of…

"I'm sorry," he said, stiffly, trying to impose rationality on his thoughts. "I was out of line. But you guys lied to us, and it's only natural for me to be angry. I—"

"Are you going to tell them?" Makoto asked, managing to interrupt him with only a soft voice.

"Tell whom?"

"Your brothers. That's only natural, right?"

"I, well, yes—"

"You promised me you would support Touma no matter what," Makoto said, standing up, having mastered his face, voice much firmer. "I hope you remember."

Akira stiffened. He thought about it, quickly, because he knew that if he had to answer, he must not hesitate.

"Of course I do. But I have to tell them anyway. We will…work out how to go from here."

"Do what you think best," Makoto said, locking him with a surprisingly fierce gaze. "But remember your promise. You. Must. Be there. For her."

He accentuated this last sentence by repeatedly poking Akira in the chest, before walking right by him and opening the door.

"Where are you going?" Akira asked.

"Outside, I need fresh air."

Akira leaned on the counter, relaxing his pose.

_What now? It seems logical to tell my brothers, but there's a reason they don't trust us. And Touma, I never thought…_

He clenched his right fist.

_I can't let this affect our relationship._

He reoriented his thoughts.

_I have to leave this bathroom; if something big has happened, they will wonder what I am doing, and I might not be able to pretend nothing happened._

Akira straightened up, and started to walk out of the bathroom.

"Hold it," Fujioka said, stepping in front of him.

Akira stopped in his tracks, surprised.

"I was wondering where you were," Fujioka said. "Everyone is gathered in their room right now"—he gestured with his thumb to indicate Chiaki's room—but it's obvious something is wrong. Touma won't leave the kitchen. They won't say anything though. _You_ wouldn't have anything to do with this, would you?"

Fujioka poked him aggressively in the chest, naturally suspicious of Akira.

"Not directly," Akira equivocated, looking away.

They stood in silence for a long moment. Fujioka regarded him carefully.

"You know, don't you?" Fujioka asked, narrowing his eyes.

Akira looked up in surprise.

"How did you—"

"I didn't. I was testing."

Akira blinked.

"I—"

"You learn about it just now?"

Fujioka leaned on the doorjamb, watching him. Fujioka held a nominally neutral pose, but something about it bespoke hostility.

"Yes," Akira said, simply.

Fujioka sighed, eye twitching slightly.

"So what do you think?" Fujioka asked.

"I—" Akira began, before realizing he had nothing to say.

Had he been asked before he discovered the truth, he would have answered that it would be obviously just a phase, something to correct Touma out of. But now…

"_Whether it's your fault or not, I'm not going to change now," she had said._

But what if it were the fault of the brothers, what then? How could he atone?

_What am I supposed to do? I can't leave it alone, pretend I didn't see it! But there's nothing I can say that would—_

Sometimes he wore a wig, and pretended to be "Aki-chan". Even if he only did it to suit his purposes, he wouldn't want to be ostracized for it. Was it fair to—

_Yes! That's why we would never want her to be—_

He had promised that he would—

_No, it's not a contradiction!_

"I don't know," he concluded, a long moment later. "My brothers and I must discuss this."

Fujioka made a derisive noise.

"I've held my tongue up until now, but frankly, I don't have much faith in you guys," he said. "But regardless of how I feel, you three are her true brothers, after all."

"We will eventually—"Akira began.

"Or that's what Kana says, after all," Fujioka continued, not acknowledging Akira's interruption. "She thinks you guys should be given the chance. Myself, I've heard what she says about you guys. I would like nothing better than to continue being her surrogate brother, as I have been these past few years. Or are you going to deny that?"

Fujioka said these last words in an angry tone, pinning Akira with a look.

"You guys get your shit together," he warned.

Fujioka walked off, back to the room.

* * *

Makoto kicked the balcony wall in frustration, finally letting himself go after keeping up the appearance of collectedness for Akira.

_Am I this stupid? Am I this incoherent?_

Apparently.

Thinking about it now, he had been slowly realizing for a while. Sure, he had always thought her attractive. Nothing wrong there. She had looked unusually attractive after she changed how she dressed. Nothing wrong there, either. She had looked positively ethereal on the soccer field. He had admired her determination and skill. Nothing wrong with admiring someone who deserved to be admired.

They were close-knit, he knew. They had once shared a devastating secret, and that bond had held and strengthened, even though she eventually came clean to Fujioka. He flattered himself that he knew her better than anyone and she surely knew him at least as well. She was his best friend; he had been aware of that for quite a while, though he wasn't sure where she considered him in reference to Chiaki. But just friends, there was nothing wrong with that.

He placed quite a premium on kindness. It was one of the reasons he considered her such a good friend. She might have a hard exterior, but once you got to know her, she was just as kind as anyone. The kind of person to help you hide clothes you had to hide from your mother, compromise her reputation to protect yours, support you when you need it, even hold you close when—

_Arggh!_

He clutched his head in frustration, bending over and gritting his teeth, knowing he had been well and truly compromised.

Nothing had served to crystallize those feelings and reveal to himself his perfidy until what he had seen just now.

_I should be in there yelling at her!_

Yes, yelling at Touma, for the way she had betrayed the agreement he thought they had. For trying to jump ahead and shut him out. Venting jealous rage that she had achieved what she had, even if Chiaki had left in the end.

But he had only sustained the rage mere moments. Couldn't find the will to hate Touma, even now, and he had wondered why he couldn't. And then he had examined the great driver of the jealousy, imagining what it would be like if Touma succeeded—_once _Touma succeeded, as he had assumed in his despair—and realized he couldn't tell who he would miss more.

_Why can't I just…make up…my mind? Why am I so stupid? _he barely suppressed saying out loud.

It was just like with Haruka. He was distracted so easily, but he had merely to persevere—

No, it was more serious than that.

_Damn it!_

He kicked the wall again, clenching his fist.

_No, I won't let this deter me. It doesn't matter even if this is deeper than that thing with Haruka; this is just as impossible. What, the girl who has admitted liking girls? Just as impossible._

_No, I won't change course, even if I can't bring up the anger necessary to yell at Touma._

But did Chiaki deserve someone as indecisive and uncommitted as him? An idiotic baka-yaro like him?

He buried that thought as deep as he could, wrapped in as much denial as he could manage.

Then he took a deep breath, turned around, and headed back in.

* * *

Chiaki stood on the balcony of her room, feeling the gazes of the others on her back. She had said she wanted fresh air.

_Why? Why does it hurt so much?_

Because Yoshino was right, and Touma wasn't—

_No! It's not just that! I could deal with that! I'm scared of the commitment! I don't want a relationship!_

That was only natural.

_Not like this! Why does it hurt?_

She looked up, instinctively. Polaris—it was the one she always looked at, as if it had the answers. But—

A wave of nausea hit her. She brought her palm to her face, and staggered.

"Chiaki!" one of them yelled from behind her. She couldn't even tell whom.

She stabilized herself on the railing.

"I'm fine. I'm fine."

_I'm not._

She turned and went back in.

* * *

Akira managed to convince Yoshino that they were fine going home on the bus by the simple expedient of pointing out that there being too many people to fit in the five-person car. Neither Yoshino nor Uchida bothered to suggest that Makoto simply separate from Akira and Touma, either to ride alone in the bus or with Yoshino. In fact, the idea didn't even seem to occur to them, as it did to Akira. He suppressed an inappropriate smile.

Seated as he was behind the two of them, it was impossible not to eavesdrop, but at first there was nothing to hear, as they seemed lost in their own thoughts. For this, he was glad.

Suddenly, Touma seemed to shake herself awake. She jostled Makoto in the ribs.

"Is something wrong? Why are you so quiet today?"

Makoto looked up briefly.

"I—oh, it's nothing. I'm just a little tired."

He dodged her eyes.

"It's not nothing! Come on, say it!"

Akira glanced nervously around to confirm once again that, yes, the only other people in the bus were the driver and one rider seated far to the front.

"Come on!" Touma added, grabbing him around the neck with her arm in a gesture of almost-forced camaraderie.

Makoto visibly stiffened, but she didn't seem to notice.

Akira was confused until insight suddenly struck him.

_Oh, I see, she doesn't know._

He wondered if he should tell her, eventually.

_No, it's…probably best I leave this alone._

And was it just him, or did Touma seem particularly nervous?

_She wants support; this hasn't been a good day for her. She wants someone to talk to._

He wished that, just once, she'd reach for one of her brothers instead.

"Say, Touma," Makoto asked suddenly, still not looking up. "Will it really be alright with you and Natsuki? I mean, he seemed pretty angry. If—"

"He'll be fine," Touma said, glancing back at Akira. "Give him a couple of days. I'll apologize to him. It'll work out."

Akira noted the omission in that sentence.

"Are you sure?" Makoto asked. "What about—"

Makoto conspicuously bit his tongue. Touma gave him a warning glare.

"Even with that," she said, with obviously less confidence, "if you just give him long enough…"

"I'm sure it will be fine," Akira said, forcing a smile. He felt he had to say something.

Touma stared at him for a moment, then dropped her arm and turned back towards the window.

"Probably," she said, dully.

Makoto exhaled audibly. He turned his head toward Touma, then deliberately away.

After a moment, Akira followed suit, also sighing loudly. It seemed the appropriate response.

What was he to do anyway? He could say nothing, but what good would that do? The truth would come out eventually. And then what? Give her unqualified support and watch her life be miserable? Try to change her and earn her eternal hatred? Like it or not, her family must take a position, for better or worse. What path was there out of this?

_I can't decide this alone!_

He believed—

Leaned back in the seat, he looked up at the fluorescent lights ringing the bus ceiling.

He believed he had to have faith in his brothers, and himself, even if she wouldn't.

* * *

It was normally a relief to step off of the bus and into the clear air, but he didn't feel that way today. Today, that bus ride could have taken forever, as far as he was concerned.

He looked up at the few stars that were visible in the city.

As he and Touma advanced toward the door, he glimpsed a car leaving the curb from the corner of his eye. Touma noticed it, too, and gave it a perplexed look as it drove off.

When they entered, they found Natsuki and Haruo seated at the kotatsu, as always. They didn't look particularly unusual, but Akira knew they were waiting for him. Natsuki's brief look signified as much. The table was still uncleared, and the empty teacups indicated that they had been entertaining some guest.

Touma looked like she might say something, but thought better of it and headed straight up the stairs.

Akira sighed, hand grasping the sliding door.

_Well, here it is._

He slid the door closed behind him and sat down as Haruo and Natsuki efficiently disposed of their magazine and newspaper, respectively.

Natsuki opened his mouth to speak.

"Who was that?" Akira interrupted, delaying the main topic. "There was a car driving away from the curb just now…"

"The mother of one of Touma's friends," Haruo said, looking at Natsuki. "It seems she and Natsuki know each other somehow."

"I don't know why she wanted to visit," Natsuki, a glimmer of annoyance passing his face. "But we were nice enough."

Akira could imagine what "nice enough" meant. Barely courteous. And yet, judging from the dishes strewn around the table, she had been here a considerable while.

"I can imagine a reason," Haruo said, crossing his arms and looking at around at the other two. "It seems she's also the mother of that boy in the picture."

No one needed to point out who he was referring to.

_Canny mother!_ Akira thought.

"Did she say anything?" Akira asked as naturally as he could. He glanced at Natsuki, glowering and refusing to join the conversation.

"Not really," Haruo said, again looking at Natsuki. "She said she wanted to apologize for 'last time'. She also wanted to be shown around the house, for some reason. Natsuki did that."

He turned to stare openly at Natsuki, who, with his customary impassivity, refused to explain his actions or even acknowledge that they were asking him anything.

"Do we still want to do this?" Haruo asked, sighing and giving up. "After all, the expectation was we would be holding a meeting during the afternoon, while Touma was gone."

"We can take the risk," Natsuki said, suddenly coming alive. "She won't be coming down here, not…today."

Akira glanced around nervously. Natsuki was considerably calmer than he had been earlier; in fact, he seemed to have calmed down much faster than he did under usual circumstances. That was a good sign, Akira hoped.

"I suppose," Haruo said, adjusting his glasses. He seemed uncomfortable.

Natsuki leaned forward, avoiding the plates on the table.

"Well, for today, I've skipped printing an agenda sheet, since there's only one item."

_So you care about the trees after all_, Akira's mind automatically produced. He suppressed that quip, however.

They watched him expectantly.

Akira looked down at his hands.

"Based on a conversation I heard at their school involving Touma, there is definitely something of the expected nature going on, but there were no other details forthcoming," he delayed.

Haruo let out a gust of breath and brought his fist down to the table.

"Damn," he said simply.

"Is that all?" Natsuki looked at him carefully.

Akira froze, sweat forming on his neck. This was the moment.

Did he really want to do this? His brothers would not take it well, he knew. Akira was not certain he himself was taking it well. He remembered when things would turn up on the news, or in sitcoms, about people coming out of the closet, and they would make fun of them, or say how distasteful it was. He had joined in.

But this was _Touma_, and nothing like that played a factor. He had realized he had been doing nothing but following the crowd, going along with it. When push came to shove, he couldn't bring himself to dislike her for it, even if he tried. The very fact that he was considering lying…

His brothers would be the same, right? Eventually?

He had to hope so.

Natsuki had narrowed his eyes.

"That's not it, is it Akira?"

Akira closed his eyes.

"No! No, it's not," he shot back, forcing the words out with speed. "What I've seen—it's all true, all of it! Touma is a lesbian! So is Chiaki, probably. I don't know if Haruka knows, but certainly everyone else does! At least Kana, Fujioka, and Makoto do. Makoto has also got a crush on Touma, but I don't think she knows. I don't know what she thinks of him but they're very close! We—we need to decide what to do!"

He stopped, breathing just a little heavily, and forced himself to look up to gauge their reactions.

Shock and surprise, especially from Haruo. Natsuki, perhaps, was startled by the vehemence of Akira's recounting of it.

"I knew it," Natsuki said, eyes implacable. His voice carried no emotion, but his right hand twitched.

"Are—are you sure?" Haruo asked in disbelief, his eyes wide. "How do you know, Akira?"

"I—" Akira began.

He paused a moment.

"I'd rather not speak about it," he concluded, looking away.

"Don't push him, Haruo," Natsuki said. "It's good enough. We know now."

They sat in silence for a long moment, absorbing it.

"I'll have to call Haruka about her sisters—" Natsuki began.

"It's your fault, you know," Haruo said suddenly.

"What?" Natsuki asked, quietly but with dangerous undertones.

"You're the one who's always playing video games with her," Haruo said, glaring back at him. "You were the one who was the delinquent and taught her to skip school. You're the one who used to fight with her so much. I told you to stop it, but no, you said, you were just trying to be friendly, it wouldn't matter too much."

Natsuki stood up, using his prodigious height to look back down on him. For once, Haruo got up to challenge him—though he was much shorter.

"That's better than you," Natsuki said, shoving Haruo effortlessly into the nearest wall with his off arm. "You're the one who ignored her for her whole childhood! And you're the one who kept giving her those creepy gifts about 'brother love'! I've seen the way you act! You probably scared her into it, you sick fiend. So say again that it's my fault, you pervert!"

Haruo, who had barely stopped himself with his arm, sprung back up and placed himself right back in Natsuki's face, raising a fist.

"_WHAT_ did you say? You want to turn this into a fight?"

"You seriously expect to win?" Natsuki warned, grabbing his arm.

"GUYS!" Akira yelled, as loud as he dared.

They looked at him.

"We're getting nothing accomplished! What good is any of this doing? We need to decide what to do! Calm down and let's move on!"

They both blinked at his unusual behavior.

Natsuki let go of Haruo's arm and sat back down, conceding for once.

"I guess I did get carried away there," Haruo said, also sitting back down. "But that's not something he can just take back."

"So," Akira said decisively, taking, however briefly, the unfamiliar command role in the conversation. "We must decide how to proceed from here. Firstly, I do not believe it will do any good for us to pretend we don't know, so we've got admit that we know about it, and talk to her."

The other two nodded, slowly.

"Second, we've got to decide on a policy regarding her…orientation. After all, it wouldn't do to pretend it doesn't mean anything at all. Now, while it wouldn't be desirable for her to stay as she is, I am of the opinion that there is nothing we could reasonably do to somehow change that. So we tacitly accept it for now, and hope she grows out of it. Since she's only thirteen anyway, I would assign a fifty percent chance…"

He stopped, noticing the way their faces had hardened in reaction to what he thought a perfectly reasonable plan, one he had couched as soothingly as possible. It had taken him quite some time to arrange, and he had been feeling optimistic…

"No," Haruo said.

"Never," Natsuki said.

Akira blinked at them.

"What? Really?" he asked incredulously.

"It's not a risk we can take," Haruo said. "I wouldn't like this even if everything were in a vacuum, but that's mostly a concern about age—"

"Yeah, right," Natsuki mumbled. Haruo glared at him.

"Like I was saying," Haruo continued. "However, it is not a vacuum. We've got society to consider. Something like this will reflect poorly both on her and on us. You know how it is. It'd be a problem for us and downright catastrophic for her."

"I can't believe you're focusing on what people will think of us," Akira grumbled.

"Focus on what people will think of her, then!" Haruo said. "Imagine how hard it will be, having to bear people's stares everywhere. How hard it will be to get a job or even into a good school. Touma wants to be a soccer star, right? How many clubs will take her? Will the referees tolerate her? You know what I'm saying is true."

"That's only if we let them know," Akira pointed out, surprised at the edge in his voice. "And so what? She should bow her head for other people?"

"It will come out," Haruo said. "It always does. And you and I both know how important society is. You yourself admitted it would not be optimal."

Akira said nothing, just glared back.

"Perhaps this Makoto kid," Haruo said, thoughtfully. "It's his mother that just visited, right? Perhaps if we mention something, we can convince Touma—"

"You cannot possibly think that would work," Akira said angrily. "I can't believe we're even discussing—"

"And why not?" Haruo shot back. "It's perfectly reasonable. As her guardians, we cannot permit—"

"_I_ will not permit this," Natsuki said forcefully, suddenly, bringing his fist down to the table. They both turned their heads in surprise at the degree of emotion in his voice, the way he was almost grinding his teeth to keep from yelling. "I will not. I have spent the last three years trying to atone for our sins. I have done everything I can to talk to her, take care of her, pull her back from the brink of delinquency. I have stayed up night after night thinking of ways to make sure she will grow up to be happy and respectable. I _will_ _not_ see it fall apart here. _We_ will do everything we must to undo what we have done. This is _our_ fault, and I will not let our mistakes fester."

Haruo stared at him, gaping at the sheer volume of words Natsuki had produced, but Akira could suddenly barely contain himself.

"What then?" he asked, leaning over the table, almost getting up. "What the hell do you suggest we do? What could possibly make a difference? What could we do that would have any effect but make her hate us? Say it _is_ our fault. What, then? Is it really fixable? She told me herself that she wouldn't change, whether it is our fault or not! Even if we are successful, it won't be worth the price paid!"

He emphasized this last point with a sweeping hand gesture.

"You talked to her?" Haruo asked, surprised.

"Not directly. But I know what she meant. She practically told me everything I need to know," Akira said.

"That's a price I will pay," Natsuki said in a low voice, almost like his customary growl, but somehow darker. "She hates me anyway. Did you hear her today? Better she hate me for something I can feel is justified. At least then my conscience will be clear."

Even Akira had no words for this. They merely stared at him.

"I know what we're doing," Natsuki said. "We talk to her and we tell her to break it off, stop going to the other Minami's house. She can talk with that Makoto kid if she wants. If she refuses, we ground her indefinitely. We can even pull her out of school for these last three days, if it comes to that. She's not graduating this year; those days aren't important."

"You can't possibly mean that," Akira said, appalled.

"That's extreme, Natsuki!" Haruo said.

"Even so, I believe it is necessary," Natsuki said. "I—"

"I will not stand for this," Akira said, finally standing up. "I goddamn will not. I will not _imprison_ her. I don't care if—"

He stopped when he heard the wooden door behind him slam open. He turned his head.

Touma stood at the threshold, breathing heavily, as if she couldn't hold herself back.

"Touma—" he began, though he honestly had nothing to finish the sentence with.

She breezed right past him and grabbed Natsuki's collar. Her face was twisted with anger.

"Here's your answer," She yelled at him. "No! And if you think I'll take something like that sitting down, you've got another thing coming! I'll take your pathetic ideas and shove them right…right back down…."

It was shocking to Akira, the sheer speed at which the force of her anger crumbled away. One second, she looked ready to tear his throat out, and in the next, almost faster than he could comprehend, her face lost its composure, and she was nothing but the sister he remembered from all those years ago, when she had fallen off her bike and started crying uncontrollably, and he had bought her an ice cream cone…

"I…I will…" she barely managed to say, tearing up.

Except for her, they were frozen, still as statues.

She sprinted from the room, shoving Akira aside.

"Natsuki!" Haruo yelled.

Akira was almost in tears himself. Haruo harangued Natsuki, but Akira knew what the better response was.

He turned and ran after her.

He wasn't fast enough. Her door was closed. He tried to push it open, but she seemed to have jammed something on the other end—that, and she was pushing back with far more strength than he had.

"Come on, Touma, let me in!" he said, banging on the door desperately. "We'll talk him out of it. It's not—please don't—"

"NO!" she yelled back through the door, obviously sobbing. "Go away! I don't want to talk!"

"Come on, please. I…"

She didn't even respond this time, except for quiet sobbing through the door. Didn't, or couldn't.

Akira tried to think of something more meaningful to say.

Someone loomed over his right shoulder. Natsuki.

Releasing all of the frustration he had accumulated, Akira turned, screamed, and punched him in the face as hard as he could.

Natsuki withstood the impact, even though Akira knew it must have been tremendously painful. His own fist throbbed painfully.

"I deserve it," Natsuki said simply, the side of his jaw bleeding.

He kept walking, to his own room. For a moment, Akira just watched.

* * *

_Enough._

That was the single word that repeated itself in Touma's mind, over and over. It thrummed in her head, making itself felt by its incessant drumbeat.

It had taken her hideously long to calm down, long enough that even Akira had eventually given up, leaving after one final appeal to her to come out and talk to him.

Now she sat on her bed, freshly miserable, refusing to leave her room, even to take the shower necessary to wash the tear tracks off.

_What does Akira know? I don't care if they talk him out of it! He will be there, making his presence felt. Everywhere! I don't want to live with him anymore! Enough!_

She placed his head in her hands.

_It's not fair! They're not my parents! Natsuki isn't my father! But I can't escape him!_

She looked at her alarm clock through her fingers. Midnight.

There was nothing she could do. She had left before, but that was what? In preparation for one day? She had nowhere she could truly go, no one who could drive her in the middle of the night, no one whose parents would allow her to stay. And was she really going to leave, live elsewhere? How would she live? Who would support her?

These thoughts crossed her mind as she watched the digital display add one more minute to the counter.

_But I can't stand it anymore! I'm going to crack!_

What was she thinking? Was she really considering this?

Not even Haruka would tolerate her staying for more than a day, not in a situation like this. Haruka would insist she go back, try to smooth things over, and the tension, the hate, it would all still be there.

She didn't even have a phone to call anyone.

She stared at the carpeted floor, glanced at the wooden poles that held up her chair, and up at the glowing screen of the cheap computer that they had dragged home last summer.

And then, all at once, she had it.

* * *

"You sure you have everything you need?" Yoshino asked, looking over the sizable number of bags stuffed in the trunk of the car, whose midnight-black color made it almost invisible in the night.

"I'm sure," Touma said.

She had packed everything, including several of Mako-chan's outfits. She was _sure_ she had everything.

The chauffeur stood up, looming over them in the darkness, and closed the trunk lid. He glanced between on the two of them, his cap shading his face.

"It is not ordinarily my place to question the young mistress's orders," he intoned, moustache shifting in the moonlight. "But in this case, I feel I must register my dissatisfaction. I do not believe this to be wise, whatever the circumstances may be."

He looked carefully at Touma to make it clear to whom he was speaking, before bowing slightly and touching his gloved hand to his cap, by way of apology.

"We've been over this, Arisawa," Yoshino said evenly, looking up at him. "I believe it to be necessary."

"If you say so."

They took their places in the vehicle, but Touma paused a moment longer, looking back at the darkened house behind her. She hadn't been noticed. She wondered how Akira would react, when he eventually woke up and found the note placed under his door.

"Touma? You okay?" Yoshino asked, sticking her head out the right side of the car.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

She sat down in the back next to Yoshino, and they drove off.

The darkened windows made the night even darker, but the occasional streetlight was still discernible and, of course, the front windshield was fully transparent.

"Privacy screen, please," Yoshino said to the man sitting in front of her, almost apologetically. "Just for now."

Touma sensed that there was a slight tension between them. She hoped she hadn't asked too much of Yoshino.

The chauffeur looked back slightly.

"Light?"

"We're probably fine."

He nodded.

A shaded and presumably soundproof piece of glass slid silently up the middle, removing the last direct connection between front and back—and casting them in eerie blackness.

Touma wondered if Yoshino would say anything. She knew everything from what Touma had typed online; she would never have agreed to this otherwise.

Yoshino leaned back into the leather seat, brushing aside a bang with her finger. Touma found it difficult to read her expression in the darkness.

Yoshino seemed to smile.

"They don't say anything, but the servants don't really think I have the ideal kind of friends. They like Uchida, but beyond that…well, this won't make them feel better about it."

"I'm sorry," Touma said.

"Don't be," Yoshino said, looking up. "They just have this strange idea that all my friends should be at the top of the class, perfectly polite, and have no flaws at all. That is, of course, not what I'm seeking at all."

"Still, to ask something like that of you—"

Yoshino waved this concern aside.

"Don't worry about it. I'm happy to do it. I just wonder why you didn't ask me to, for instance, drive you to the Minami household?"

Touma looked down, hiding her expression even though there was no need to.

"I…don't think Haruka would be okay with it. And I've already abused their hospitality far too much. I…"

…_wouldn't want it to seem like I'm trying to force Chiaki into something_, she left unsaid.

"I see," Yoshino said, before tossing herself back on the chair, as much as the seatbelt would allow.

"My servants," she said, "have done their best to take care of me. It is not the case that I order them here and there and they blindly obey. I have a bit more authority now that I'm older, but in the past it was instead _they_ ordering _me_ around, almost as if they were my parents. I think of them as my family, and they have always done their best to fill the hole in my heart."

"Yoshino—" Touma began in surprise.

"No, I'm ranting, don't mind me," Yoshino said.

Touma blinked, perplexed.

"They're tiresome sometimes," Yoshino continued. "For instance, in the way they look down on my friends. And my mother, especially, has been hinting heavily that I should start attending those society galas. As if I would ever pair myself with one of those arrogant blowhards! I'm only a teenager! Why they think I should start thinking about things like this now I can only imagine. Even if I am the family heir. _Especially_ because of that."

Touma heard the slight distaste in Yoshino's voice. But she was confused. Who—

"Ah, but of course she's not my mother," Yoshino said, only pausing long enough for rhetorical effect. "I'm not sure why I keep making that mistake. My mother is somewhere in Europe. I just have this silly habit of calling my head maid 'mother'. I've been doing it since I was a child. I had a 'father' too, in case you're curious."

Touma just stared at her.

"But no matter how annoyingly they act," Yoshino said, "I love them all just the same."

After a moment, Touma looked away, having finally understood the point of this conversation.

"You know why I'm talking about this, right?" Yoshino said earnestly, grabbing Touma's arm. "I didn't have a family and I still don't. As a kid, I _pretended_ to have parents, because I wanted so badly to seem normal. But you do have a family. You do. Please don't throw it away."

"I told you what Natsuki said," Touma said, in a low voice. "I told what he has planned. I can't live with something like that."

"Natsuki is…" Yoshino began, letting go of Touma's arm. Touma looked up.

"From what I've observed, Natsuki is pretty similar to you, actually," she said.

"What?" Touma asked, surprised and annoyed by the comparison.

"He's not very socially competent. He's easily angered. He's headstrong and strong-willed. He won't give in to anybody, yet at the same time will easily blame himself. He also has a tendency to occasionally do very, very stupid things. It's no wonder he became a delinquent for so long. He's everything you'd expected out of a brother of Touma, actually."

"I can't tell if you're insulting me or what," Touma said, eyes narrowing.

"I'm telling you that you should be willing to forgive him when he does something crazy, the same way he forgives you. Until this happened, he would have forgiven you for what you said this afternoon, right?"

"How can I forgive him for something like this?" Touma asked, trying not to yell in a way the driver would hear. "_How_? He won't accept me for what I am! How can I reconcile with that? You weren't there! I'll never talk him out of it!"

Yoshino sat back and crossed her arms.

"That is a problem yes. We'll have to think of something."

Touma snorted.

"But remember," Yoshino said. "Everything he does is out of love. For you. You know that."

Yoshino watched the chiaroscuro of Touma's face.

"Sometimes that's not enough," Touma said, quietly.

They sat in silence for a moment. Yoshino sighed—then deliberately sat back up with sudden energy.

"Well, I know the way to cheer us up," she said, with an evil smile Touma could sense even in the darkness.

She stabbed the intercom with a finger.

"Hey, Arisawa, open the sunroof, okay? And go ahead and pull down the privacy screen."

"Sure, young mistress."

The wide sunroof, which covered nearly the entire passenger compartment, began to slide open.

"What are you planning?" Touma asked.

"Have you ever tried sticking your head out of one of these things and feeling the wind?" Yoshino asked, unbuckling her seatbelt.

"No, I haven't and are you crazy? That can't possibly be safe!"

"Probably not," Yoshino conceded, "But it's fun!"

"But what about trees? And what if a cop sees us?"

"We should be on my private property by now, and I've done this plenty of times! The trees won't hit us," she said, unbuckling Touma and pulling her by the arm insistently.

"This is madness!" Touma said, finally standing onto the seat cushion and sticking her head out. She could feel the wind ruining her hair. The trees and shrubbery flew by in a blur.

"Isn't it great?" Yoshino yelled, grabbing Touma by the shoulder. "Hey, Arisawa, gun it!"

"_WHAT_?" Touma protested.

"Will do," the chauffeur said, chuckling to himself.

_This girl is crazy! _Touma thought, as the road started to slope uphill, the car _accelerated_, and Touma somehow managed not to lose her balance at all.

"Oh, I know!" Yoshino yelled over the wind, pulling out her cell phone and stretching it out in front of her. "It's one of the newer expensive models, so this moonlight will be enough to take a picture. Might be blurry, though. Smile!"

Yoshino pulled Touma in to take the shot.

"How could I possibly smi—"

Looking back, Touma had to admit it had been surprisingly exhilarating, and that the picture had turned out pretty well, despite the look of abject terror on her face and the crazy smile on Yoshino's.

* * *

_"Don't worry about making your bed," Yoshino had said. "Someone will take care of that."_

_Like I ever worry about that_, Touma thought, sardonically.

_"And…would you rather have breakfast delivered to you or at the table?" Yoshino had asked._

Touma had chosen at the table. She had to at least _pretend_ to be polite. She had told them she would appreciate being woken up whenever Yoshino got up, so they could eat together. As for an alarm clock—she couldn't talk her designated maid into giving her one.

Touma rolled over in her bed and faced the window. Despite her weariness, she hadn't collapsed instantly into sleep, as she had expected. At least the windows provided a pretty view.

This guest bedroom was better than any of the rooms in Touma's house. Neater, despite Touma's bags stacked in the corner, larger, and she was fairly certain the computer in the corner was better than hers. It even had two separate doors and its own bathroom! These sheets also felt strangely luxurious. She shouldn't have been surprised, she supposed.

The room suffered from the same aberration of taste as the rest of Yoshino's place, she mused. Just look at all this pink!

"Sleeping so early?" asked a voice behind her.

Touma recoiled and turned, grabbing a pillow and wielding it as if it were a weapon. Her brain then finally caught up with her body.

"Yoshino! What the hell are you doing? It's 3am!"

"Yes, but you just got here," she said, climbing onto the bed. "Come on, let's chat."

That was somewhat true. Touma had taken a shower, despite the late hour, had only started trying to sleep half an hour ago.

Touma looked at her warily.

"It's 3am. I'm tired. I played a soccer game. I haven't slept since then! Do I have to make a list of what's happened to me today?"

"No. But if you're so tired, why aren't you asleep yet?"

"We have school tomorrow!"

"You don't," Yoshino pointed out. "Or did you really intend to try and go, under the circumstances? You're hiding, remember? And forget about it, I'll just take the day off. It's not like we have anything important going on."

"But your attendance record—"

"Doesn't matter."

Touma looked at Yoshino's earnest eyes for a long moment.

"Fine," she sighed, reaching backward to turn on the sidelamp.

Yoshino nodded.

"Yuka and I do this all the time, though usually on weekends. We stay up the whole night!"

"I—I see," Touma said, looking back at her, noting the way she had slipped into the personal _Yuka_. Now that the light was on, Touma was trying to think of a way to tell her that—

"Ah," Yoshino said, catching Touma looking. She redid the top two buttons of her nightgown.

Touma looked away, blushing. Strangely, this sort of thing had been less embarrassing back when no one knew. Indeed, the girls' soccer team showered in each others' close vicinity, and she never even batted an eyelash. Too used to it, she supposed, though it wasn't as if she didn't look…

"It gets warm sometimes," Yoshino commented, "but I don't want to turn the heat down because then it gets cold. I should really do something about that…"

_It feels strange_, Yoshino thought. _Not caring. But I guess it isn't Yuka, after all._

"Hey, come on," she said, grabbing Touma's arm. "I don't mind. It's only a problem if you're all awkward about it."

Touma turned her head back and cleared her throat.

"Al—alright."

"Anyway," Yoshino said, reaching into her shirt pocket, "first, I should return this."

She withdrew a neatly folded enveloped of paper and handed it to Touma, who promptly unfolded it and glanced over it, holding it in both hands.

"This is—" Touma began, wide-eyed.

"One of you dropped it the other day," Yoshino said. "I picked it up. Is it yours?"

_I have no idea what happened to my copy_, Touma suddenly realized. _It could be in my drawer at home, or…_

"Did you read it?" she asked.

Yoshino looked bemused for a moment.

"No, I didn't. I really wanted to, and I wasn't sure if I should give it back but in the end, here we are."

Touma unfolded the parchment, reading once again Chiaki's careful calligraphy. It really seemed like an eon ago. She focused on certain lines that were specific to her.

_This really _is_ my copy. How could I be so careless?_

"It's mine," she said.

"Can I read it?" Yoshino asked. "Though it might be more appropriate to ask Chiaki…"

Touma considered the letter in her hands for a moment.

"Nevermind," Yoshino said, shading her eyes. "I lied. I read it a long time ago."

Touma looked up.

"What? You—"

Yoshino lay down on the double-size bed and buried her head partially in one of the pillows.

"I'm sorry. It's one of my character failings. When it comes to things involving my friends, I just can't keep my hands out of it. I always think I should try to do something, even when sometimes it's not really any of my business."

"If it were just me, I would have said yes," Touma said, lying down and turning her head to regard Yoshino. She was tired.

"But I don't know if Chiaki would…" Touma continued.

"Someday, I'll ask her to forgive me," Yoshino said, gloomily.

"Hey, it's not _that_ big a deal—" began Touma, reaching out.

"I still don't know if I should do this," Yoshino said, sitting up suddenly, shoulders hunched. "But I can't abide things as they are. I hope you'll forgive me."

Touma blinked at her.

"What are you talking about?"

Yoshino brought her legs back onto the bed and looked Touma in the eye.

"I don't think you have a clear picture of the state of things," she said.

"I still don't understand—" Touma began.

"Don't you think it's strange how utterly unprepared Chiaki was for this, despite being in many ways the one who started it all?"

Touma looked back.

"No, I haven't even thought about it," she said, entirely truthfully.

Yoshino smiled crookedly, lying down face up on one of the pillows.

"She must have known for years that Makoto had a crush on her. She even admitted it in the letter. Knew for all that time, couldn't bring herself to acknowledge it, but still reeled him in hook, line, and sinker."

"I don't know if she was really trying to, though," Touma commented.

"And you," Yoshino continued. "I doubt she had any idea where it was going to go, the day she demanded you be her little brother. But she noticed something about you really quickly, and there's really no explanation for what she did afterwards. Touma, she admits it in her letter! She sensed it within you. She probably caught you looking several times, the same way I did. Why did she choose that moment to start testing kisses and stuff on you?"

Touma propped herself up on her elbow to stare at Yoshino.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying her behavior suggests she was _trying_ to get one of you to fall completely in love," Yoshino said, "but then the moment you two actually _did_, she almost literally crashed. She couldn't take it. It makes no sense, but I have a theory."

Touma nodded, indicating she should go on.

"There's something sad about Chiaki," Yoshino said, staring at her hand, which she had above her head, fingers outstretched. "I can't quite put my finger on it, but sometimes she's a lot gloomier and angrier than she really should be. What is it, Touma?"

She was reacting to the look on Touma's face.

"Nothing," Touma responded instinctively, before following up with:

"It's just…Makoto once said something really similar. I haven't really wanted to believe him, but…"

Yoshino smiled crookedly, yet again. Touma had a feeling she'd be seeing a lot of that.

""Perceptive boy, more than you'd think. Perhaps that's part of why she likes her. But let me continue."

She cleared her throat.

"I think something's wrong with her. Something must be eating at her. Something she doesn't want to face. But the way she reached out to you two, the way it terrified her when you guys actually responded, I think she was trying to force herself to deal with it, somehow. Subconsciously."

"But what?" Touma said, at a slightly higher volume than they'd been using for the conversation. "You and Makoto both, you keep saying there's something wrong, but you won't tell me what it is!"

Yoshino shook her head.

"That's because I don't know. I don't think he does either. But there's definitely _something_."

Touma looked at the silken red quilt she was now sitting on.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I hope you will be able to do something, somehow," Yoshino said. "I don't want you to fly blind. It seems Makoto already knows; good, I won't have to say anything. I thought about asking Chiaki directly but, in the end, I don't think I'm the right person."

Touma spread her hand out on the sheet.

"And now for the part that really worries me," Yoshino said.

"There's more?" Touma asked, looking up.

"This will be harder," Yoshino said.

"Just say it," Touma demanded. "I'm ready."

"If you say so."

Yoshino took a deep breath.

"I think you and Makoto are also starting to fall for each other."

Touma stared for exactly five seconds, then blinked rapidly twice.

"What?"

"Hear me out," Yoshino said hurriedly, holding her hand up. "Neither of you have even stopped to think about it, you're so involved with Chiaki, but I think it's definitely happening."

"You're crazy!" Touma insisted.

"No, think about it! Stop and think for a minute!" Yoshino continued stubbornly and methodically. "Have you noticed? When you two run into any sort of problem or trouble, the first thing you try is to ask the other for advice! You chat between periods and after school and at Chiaki's house. You help each other on homework, talk to each other about Chiaki, and even go shopping together! Don't deny it; I've seen it! It's starting to become difficult to find one of you without finding the other. There's a reason the most popular rumor on the grapevine is that you and Chiaki are fighting it out over Makoto."

"There is such a thing as being good friends," Touma said.

Yoshino shook her head.

"Look, I could be wrong, in which case I'm so sorry for even bringing this up, but especially recently, it's hard to think that's all it is. Everyone else is ignoring it, because they're focusing on Chiaki, but Touma, did you see the look on Makoto's face when he was watching you at the soccer game? It was identical to the looks on the faces of the other guys with crushes on you! I know you've never noticed them, but—"

"Are you really suggesting that I could be so wrong? What the hell are you saying?" Touma said, confident, but more shaken than she would admit. There were things here that Yoshino didn't know.

Now that the possibility had entered her mind, the plausibility of Yoshino's insane idea was disturbingly high. She remembered comforting him that one night, when he had cried so much. She remembered helping Mako-chan hide his clothing in her closet, remembered lying to his mother, even pretending to be his girlfriend. Just why had she tried so hard? She remembered all the long conversations they had, the way he had tried to support her and give her encouragement, even when they were in direct competition for Chiaki. She remembered the way she had tried to help him come to terms with his cross-dressing, when it would have been so much easier just to let it go.

She shook her head. That didn't prove a thing!

"Look," Yoshino said, raising a finger. "Ever since you started wearing your hair longer and changing how you dress, he can't keep his eyes off of you! Have you noticed? Sometimes he zones out watching you; I don't want to speculate what he's thinking about. I doubt he wants to, and I think he's trying desperately to focus on Chiaki, but it's definitely there. And Touma—you look back."

Touma stared at the space in front of her, almost as if she could find answers just by looking hard enough. Yoshino had hit upon something.

"No I don't!" she shot back, a second late.

Yoshino noticed the hesitation.

"And now I know it's true. Ever since I started looking for it, it's obvious. Every time he does that girlish pout or giggles, you look at him. When he commented on my new bracelet, you were watching. And sometimes, when he's not even doing anything. I honestly didn't think it worked like that, but he's one of the girliest guys I know, and something about that clicks with you. Admit it, you're attracted."

"I—" Touma began, but never finished the sentence.

She had never thought of it like that, but now that she considered it like that, what else could it be? She already knew that she was strangely drawn to Mako-chan. That pout of his; it really had wormed its way into her mind, in such a way that she always noticed when he did it. And the way he laughed, she had always found it satisfyingly melodic—

_Good God, am I that shallow? Just because he acts like a girl?_

"I don't think you notice," Yoshino said, "but when you two are together, it's like you both relax. Makoto becomes so calm and thoughtful, it's like he's a different person, even though he still tries to act like an idiot to cover it up. You're so much mellower, almost like you just can't be that angry anymore. You start being so much friendlier. It's so strange. And the only other time I've seen something like this—"

"—is when either of us is near Chiaki," Touma finished.

"Exactly," Yoshino said, after a surprised pause. "The very fact that you've understood me so quickly, and you've fought me so little, shows you've already started thinking about it, if only a little."

Touma clenched her fists.

_How? Am I really starting to fall in love with the guy I'm goddamn competing with? How could I consider myself worthy if I have so little fidelity?_

"Why would you tell me this?" she asked. "Even if you're right, why would you tell me? I don't need to know!"

"Because…" Yoshino began.

She gathered her thoughts.

"Because I don't want you to commit to something without being absolutely sure. Have a relationship with Chiaki if you want, but only if you've dealt with Makoto and know for sure that he isn't as important, that Chiaki is the one you love more. That's…the way I've thought about it. I hope I'm right."

Touma remembered the pang of doubt that had struck her during the kiss.

_Damn it!_

Touma clutched her head. Was it really true?

Yoshino grabbed Touma's hand off her head to show her sincerity.

After a long moment, Touma looked up.

"Thank you for telling me," she said, carefully, not really sure what else to say. "I have a lot to think about."

Yoshino nodded—then started at the sound of someone banging on the door.

"Hey, you two!" A female voice yelled through the door. "I know you're in there, Yoshino! What are you thinking? It's four in the morning! I told you to stop doing this! And this time it's a school night!"

"I'm taking the day off!" Yoshino yelled back, to the servant who usually only called her Yoshino to exert authority, and who generally called her something else when guests weren't around. "It's not that important anyway!"

"You can't just skip school like that!" the voice said, grumbling. "Though I guess you'll have to. And what on earth is going on with your friend? Go to bed! We'll talk in the morning."

"Alright, alright, just give me a moment!" Yoshino said.

Yoshino turned back, getting off the left side of the bed.

"I'm sorry for doing this to you," she said, turning off the light and standing up. "So to make sure you fall asleep, I'm going to stand here and watch you so you can't keep yourself awake by thinking about it."

"You'll keep me awake by standing there!" Touma protested.

Yoshino said nothing.

Touma turned away, staring at the other sidelamp.

_There's no way I'm going to fall asleep now. Not after that! Not in this—_

She didn't wake up until noon.

* * *

_Author's note: This stretch of chapters is very Touma-centered…_


	10. Memory

Akira woke with a pounding headache.

That was fortunate; otherwise he would have shut off his alarm clock with unnecessary force. As it was, he slowly propped himself upward and meekly sought out the correct button. He wouldn't say he treasured it, exactly, but the relationship he had with it contained considerably less antagonism than the average student held for their alarm clock.

It had been a gift from Touma, after all. He had never been sure what had inspired the choice, but he had cheerfully relegated his previous model to the back of a drawer.

He groaned as the memories came washing back.

At least he had been spared for a few moments.

He was surprised he had gotten any sleep. He had lain awake at first, running through events in his mind, trying to think of a way to patch everything together, doing his best not to imagine how Touma must feel. He never did think of a way; instead he had finally dropped into a fitful sleep. He had kept imagining sounds in the hallway, considered getting up to check, maybe Touma was doing something—but ultimately, he had been unsure what was dream and what was reality.

It was normally odious, having to be the first person in the family to get up in the morning. Today, however, he was glad, despite the headache that throbbed behind his eyeballs.

It gave him time for action.

As he pulled his pants up, he ran through the basic action plan he had generated the night before. Natsuki had been chillingly ambiguous, but Akira was sure he had been serious. One thing he was sure about: if Touma wanted to walk out the door to school, he would do nothing to stop her.

Fortunately, Natsuki tended to sleep in rather late, since he didn't have an early morning shift. Hopefully he wouldn't change his habits, and there would be no need for a confrontation—not immediately, anyway.

That left the matter of his own schooling. He would have to take a second day off; he had no intention of leaving before he was sure it was safe to do so, and it was actually more believable to plead continued sickness and miss the whole day than to stagger in possibly hours late. He would miss vital preparation for the graduation ceremonies later on, but, heck, it was symbolic anyway, pageantry for the families of the students, and his family was far too distracted to care.

He pulled a shirt out of his closet—casual, not uniform—and pulled it over his head.

Of course, if Touma was too tired to want to attend school, or had locked herself in, well then, he could just call her in sick. He could reliably pose as Haruo over the phone, if he tried.

After that, he had absolutely no idea. Every possible permutation of events seemed intractable, unless…

He would only do that if he were desperate. But he was rapidly _becoming_ desperate.

He headed for the door to his room. He had to check on Touma. If she were awake, he hoped that, at the very least, he could coax her to talk. Natsuki, for all the sway he seemed to hold over the family, could be ignored if the rest of them united, but emotionally-

The sudden sound of paper tearing, directly below him. The slight sensation of his front foot slipping.

He pulled his hand back from the doorknob and looked down, at the piece of parchment that had been shoved under his door. He bent to pick it up, a sense of foreboding settling into the pit of his stomach.

He reunited the partially torn edges and read, adrenaline pointlessly building as his eyes flicked up and down the page. It was a note slipped under his door.

He should have foreseen this.

_Why didn't I get up and check?_

The sound of the parchment crumpling in his fist was soothing, in its own strange way. But not nearly enough to cool the frustration and anger that had once again rose to the surface.

_No, that would accomplish nothing_, he reminded himself, suppressing his instinctual first reaction.

He had already made the decision.

_No choice now. Desperation time is here._

Would it even work? Depending on circumstances, it might make things worse. He was operating on far too little information. He knew nothing.

_I have to try._

His headache was gone.

* * *

Haruka lit the stove to make breakfast. At her side were six eggs. The rice cooker quietly warmed the rice prepared the night before. She hummed a little tune to herself.

_Some fried eggs today_¸ she thought. _It's been a while._

The phone rang, loud in the relative silence.

She looked behind her, turning only her head. Who would call this early?

She glanced back at the eggs, making an instant decision. She turned off the stove.

_Taking a call while cooking will only mess me up. If this takes long, Kana can do it._

It was probably a telemarketer anyway, though this early...

"Hello," she said politely, picking it up after the second ring. "This is Minami."

"Haruka-san?" the voice at the other end said, sounding relieved but tenuous. "You're awake."

"Well, yes," she said, slightly confused.

_Akira_, she finally deduced from the voice.

She waited for him to say something, but he didn't. The clock in the other room ticked, softly. She could feel her focus shifting, away from the food and room around her, and into the phone call. Somehow, she knew it needed attention.

"Why are you calling?" she asked, worried now, and making sure he heard it. "Did Touma leave something behind? We didn't find—"

"No! It's not that," he said, his voice stressed, his sentences clipped. "So she's not there, is she?"

"Chiaki?" Haruka asked, furrowing her eyebrows in perplexity. "You're talking about Chiaki, right? She's still asleep; why would you want to…"

Her voice trailed off as she realized he wasn't talking about Chiaki.

"So she isn't," Akira, voicing his thoughts out loud.

Haruka tried to think it through and successfully understand the conversation, but in the meantime she stated the obvious:

"There's no reason she would be here, Akira. Isn't she at home? With you?"

The silence stretched out.

"That's…" Akira began, finally, trying to find the proper way to explain it. He stalled mid-sentence.

An icy coldness descended on her heart. For Akira to hesitate on a simple statement like that…

"Did something happen, Akira-san?"

She needed to know. Touma's welfare was her concern as well. Not just hers.

"Tell me what happened, Akira," she said, injecting cold command authority into her voice.

Still he hesitated. She could hear him lightly breathing on the receiver. She almost spoke again-

"My sister, Touma," he said, quietly, measuring his words, having finally decided what to say. "Do you know of anything…unusual about her? What about Chiaki-chan?"

Haruka narrowed her eyes. Quite a topic change, only she suspected it was nothing of the sort.

"What do you mean?" she asked, playing along.

"Well, I mean, they're friends right?" he explained, sounding uncomfortable in an entirely different way. "And they're pretty close and they spend a lot of time together and I was, uh…"

She knew what he was fishing for, she thought, listening to him struggle to dance around the topic. She knew she should pretend to know nothing, but if he was already questioning so precisely…

"You know, don't you?" she asked, cutting him off.

A sharp intake of breath on the other end, as Akira absorbed the import of what she had said.

"So you knew all along," he said, sounding faintly relieved.

"Well? Did she finally tell you?" Haruka asked, invoking a prepared response. "Are you calling me to confirm? Because-"

"No, she didn't, and No. No I am not. But I wanted to know."

He spoke in short, choppy phrases.

Haruka felt the hair on the back of her neck rise up. She realized a while ago that things would be dicey if the brothers found out about Touma, but the tone of Akira's voice, and the way he had dodged her questions earlier…

"Then tell me why you're calling, Akira."

This time she used her full command tone, the one which had once made her classmates deem her Banchou, the one which made her sisters quake in their boots.

Akira swallowed heavily, loud enough to hear over the phone.

"Natsuki found out too," he said, the words sounding painful. "Last night, I think he was still in a foul mood. He said some unreasonable things. He wanted to ground her indefinitely. We tried to talk him of it, but…

He breathed in, deeply.

"Somehow Touma overheard," he finished. "I—I don't understand. I just don't understand…"

His breath carried over the line. Haruka listened, the sense of crisis slowly seeping into her. Nothing about this could end well. And for him to call her—it meant he no longer thought their family was capable of handling it.

_Natsuki! What's wrong with you? I thought I told you to stop being aggressive, so angry. Did you hear none of it? I know it was shocking, but I really thought you would handle it better than this! What have you done?_

Haruka gritted her teeth. She wanted to jump in, take decisive charge, but what good was a family that couldn't handle its own problems? That was what she had told herself, what she had told him. How had things come to this again?

"I told Natsuki," she said, frustrated, "that I did not want Touma to become my third sister. I am happy to take care of her when she visits, but I do not want her to want our family to be hers. Not when she has one of her own. I can't keep doing your work for you, however much I want to. Is my intervention really necessary?"

Akira clenched the fist of his free hand.

_I thought we could_, he thought. _But I guess Fujioka was right all along._

"I think it is," he said, gathering what he had left of his emotional reserves. "Haruka-san, Touma is missing. She left me a message saying she wanted to get away from Natsuki, that she had packed her bags and left. It was true. It was all true. Her clothes are gone. I can't find her."

Haruka listened, shocked. It made sense, but she hadn't thought—

"I should have foreseen it," Akira said, no longer able to stop. "I made a mistake. I shouldn't have told them. I couldn't-I couldn't-she was crying so much, and I couldn't stop it! I wanted to fix it, but I didn't know how! Natsuki won't listen to me, and I—I just can't get over what her face looked like."

He sniffed loudly, and Haruka realized he was crying, that he was starting to talk through tears.

"I'm so sorry! I wanted to deal with it, I thought we could do it, but in the end we're worthless after all. I'm so sorry."

Haruka clutched the phone. Reassuring. She needed to be reassuring.

"Don't call yourself that. You tried. We will get this situation together, somehow"

Wait just a little, let him pull himself together just a little—

"Get me Natsuki," she said, her voice hardening.

Akira sniffed, again, but she seemed to have shocked him out of it.

"He's sleeping, but I will-"

"Wake him," she ordered.

"Of course," he said, his voice sharpening. "Just a moment"

Haruka sighed as Akira carried the phone to Natsuki.

_I will find out why Natsuki did this, and fix it, for his and Touma's sake. Maybe this time, I can heal it permanently. I can only hope-_

"Haruka!" Kana said, sticking her head into the kitchen. Haruka almost dropped the phone. What timing the girl had.

"I'm on the phone; it's important!" Haruka said, covering the mouthpiece with her hand.

"Chiaki's having another one of those dreams," Kana said. "I can't wake her this time!"

"I can't leave this!" Haruka said. "Help me cook these eggs, and then see if you can get her to wake up!"

So many things at once!

"Alright, I guess," Kana said, thoughtful about the unusualness of the situation. "Just let me brush my teeth and tie my hair and stuff."

Kana's footsteps faded.

Haruka relaxed slightly.

Natsuki's voice through the phone line, garbled by distance, put her back on the alert.

"What's the meaning of this, Akira?"

"Shut up and take it," Akira's voice responded. "It's Haruka."

Haruka took a deep breath. She couldn't avoid this.

"Hello?" he asked, warily. He didn't sound groggy at all. Instead he sounded tired. She wondered if he had even been sleeping. She couldn't have, in his position.

She inhaled deeply.

"You goddamn baka-yaro!" she yelled into the receiver, full force, aware that Kana could almost certainly hear her.

Haruka ignored whatever stammered response he gave and simply kept talking.

"Nothing she did was severe enough to warrant a response like that! I told you to stop being so heavy-handed. If you were here, I 'd punch you in the face! Now explain yourself!"

She listened as he breathed heavily and carefully.

"Haruka," he said, voice shaken. "The other day, when I was saying that Touma and Chiaki-"

"I know," she said, impatient to get to the point. "I knew before you did. I lied. I wanted her to tell you, because…I hoped it would prevent this."

She let him hear the regret in the last phrase.

Another pause.

"I see," he said, defaulting, as he always did when pressured, into as stoic a composure as he could manage.

"So was it worth it?" Haruka asked. "Was it worth tearing everything apart?"

"It was," he answered, his tone not quite the same.

"Of course it was," he repeated.

Haruka said nothing, surprised.

"I told you, once, what she used to be like," he said, finally saying the thoughts he had kept bottled up for a year. "What _I_ used to be like. How bad we were as brothers. I changed. _She_ changed. My grades are bad, but at least I can graduate this weekend. Hers are much better. I've done everything I can to turn it all around. Everything."

"Her life was headed for hell, because of me. Because we couldn't take care of her—because she was following me, the delinquent, down the tubes. She has so much potential, Haruka. Ever since she started studying, seriously studying, she's gotten the kind of grades the three of us can only dream about, in a school we thought she couldn't get into, and she's pissed because she's not scoring in the top ten percent."

"I want to tell her: so what? That's far more than I've ever achieved. I've seen her play soccer. I snuck into some of her games, when she wouldn't even tell me about them. She's the brightest star in our family."

"And that's why," he said, his voice shaking with more emotion than she had ever heard from him. "That's why I won't let it go to waste. Not because of this. Not because the three of us-not because _I_ was too worthless to raise a proper girl. I don't want to see her burn out because of me. I don't want some goddamn pricks to use what _I_ did as an excuse to destroy her."

"Her dream is to go National one day, do you know that?" he said, starting to lose composure, just a little. "She told me that. Would anyone accept a lesbian on the national team? They'd shoot her down beforehand. They'd shoot her down, and it'd be my fault. It'd break my heart."

He paused, breathing heavily.

"I won't let this happen," he said. "She's still young; we have time. And it hurts. It hurts that she hates me for this, but she hates me already. In the end it will all be worth it, even if she never speaks to me again."

The silence stretched out. In the background, Akira, who never had left the room, leaned on a sidetable for support.

"Natsuki…" Haruka said softly.

Another pause, as she collected her thoughts.

"You idiot," she said, voice filled with kindness, not hostility.

He let out a shocked breath.

"Why?"

"I've thought about this too," she said. "Have you forgotten? Chiaki is my sister."

Natsuki sucked in a breath.

"At first, I too, questioned myself," Haruka said, surprised at her own eloquence. "I thought back, over all those years, and asked myself if I could have done anything different. I looked and looked, and maybe I could have done some things differently—"

"I don't deserve to be compared to you," Natsuki said gloomily.

"Of course you do!" Haruka said, driving her point home. "We've both done our best to take care of our siblings. But that's not the point. Whether or not it was my fault or not, or whether there is even any fault to assign, I decided that what's important is Chiaki as she is now, not what she could have been."

"It can't possibly be your fault," Natsuki said, flummoxed, surprised that she would compare them, not used to the emotionality. "I—You're so much better than I am. You're…you are my role model. Everything you do-"

"And yet it happened to me anyway, didn't it?" Haruka said, sharply. "Stop blaming yourself, Natsuki. Stop feeling so guilty."

Silence on the other side of the line.

"I love Chiaki," Haruka said, quieter. "I want to see her grow up to be a woman I can be proud of. But she isn't like Touma. If others found out, made fun of her, attacked her, she'd have no defense. She can't fight, and she isn't used to being isolated. I don't want this either. But in the end…"

She twisted the phone cord nervously with her idle hand before grabbing it, preparing to push her line of thought all the way to the end.

"I can't protect her forever. Someday I will have to leave. If she is really the girl I think she is, if she is someone worth being proud of, if she is truly mature enough, then I have to trust her. Whether this is worth the risk, whether this is what she is really wants, I will let her decide, and I will support her whatever she chooses."

She took a single breath.

"And if you really have so much faith in Touma, that she is the brightest star in your family, then let her deal with it. Even if it is your fault. Don't suffocate her in the crib. And if she stays the way she is, and others try to shoot her down, then find them and punch them in the face! I might even help you."

Continued silence. She wondered what effect her words were having.

"And I don't think she hates you, Natsuki," she said, just a little softer. "Maybe she says she does. Maybe she hates you for this or that, but I don't think it's ever come close to outweighing her love for you."

"She used to idolize you. You were the one who played all those video games with her, when no one else would. Think about all you've shared. Who knows? Maybe she still idolizes you. But between the two of you, her life has become unlivable."

More silence. The phone seemed to be still working…

"I—" Natsuki began, abortively.

She waited.

"I just want the best for her," he said, quietly.

"Then don't crush her in your fist," she said, somehow having the response prepared.

The sound of rustling sheets on the other side.

"Akira!" Natsuki demanded, finally getting out of the bed he had been seated in. "Is she awake? Let's try to discuss this again, more calmly."

Haruka did the mental equivalent of slapping herself in the forehead.

_No one has told him!_

"Actually…" Akira said nervously, too quietly for Haruka to hear over the phone.

"Natsuki, she's not there," she said, more briskly than she intended.

"What?" Natsuki asked, confused. "Of course she is. What are you talking about?"

Haruka took a deep breath.

"Akira told me; she left overnight, packing her bags," she said, as quickly and non-provocatively as possible. "She left Akira a note. Ask him to show it to you."

Akira had already pulled out a heavily crumpled and torn piece of parchment, holding it out for inspection. It acquired yet more damage when Natsuki ripped it from his hand and scanned it rapidly.

Both Akira and Haruka cringed at the incoherent cry of rage, and the smashing sound that followed immediately afterward. Somehow, he had held onto the phone.

_That was a 4000 yen lamp_, Akira thought, inappropriately.

"I'm sorry about that," Natsuki said, a few seconds.

"No, no, no, it's alright," Haruka said, a tad nervously. "Please calm down. Don't worry; we'll help you look. I can ask Kana to take the day off—Kana, I know you're back there! You heard me! You'll help, right?"

Kana stepped into the doorway from where she had been listening in the hallway. She only had one pigtail up.

"Of course I will," she said, crisply. "I suggest we try calling her friends first. That would be the natural place for her to go. In fact…"

Kana stopped, thought for a moment, then turned and ran off, back towards her and Chiaki's room, leaving Haruka blinking in surprise.

"Anyway, Natsuki," she said, a moment later. "We'll meet somewhere, and we'll think about this. We can call her friends, and we can check the school. It will all work out. We'll find her. Don't worry."

* * *

Yoshino picked up her cell phone on the third ring, sounding very tired but forcefully alert.

"Kana? What are you doing calling me? I was asleep."

"Yes, funny that," Kana said, having rushed back to her room to grab her cell phone, then retreated to isolation of Haruka's room. "It's far past time for you to be up for school, even if you do have a chauffeur to take you places. And you're not the type of girl to go to school late."

"I took the day off," Yoshino said, annoyed from being awakened—or so she pretended. "I'm sick. Are you calling a sick girl to nag at her?"

"Now Yoshino," Kana said, patronizingly. "How could I have possibly known you were sick?"

"Then why are you calling?" Yoshino asked. "Is it just to annoy me?"

The hostility over the line was obvious. It was as if two vast, implacable forces had unexpectedly collided. Kana could almost hear the grinding sound of the collision.

"Yoshino," Kana said, after a moment, stroking the sheets of Haruka's bed. "Let's end the charades. You're hiding Touma there. You know I know, or you never would have picked up the phone. Why the hostility?"

Kana needed to wait only a brief moment.

"I should have known you would be the one to figure it out," Yoshino said. "I just never thought someone would tell you about it so quickly. What are your intentions?"

"I understand how you feel, and why you took her in," Kana said. "But there's no way this is lasting beyond today. You know that. She was smart to come to you and not here, but even so, it won't take more than half a day for them to realize that she must be with you."

"Yes, but it's also smart because I could barricade her in here indefinitely. How would you get in? And she would never have to leave. You know that. That's why you're here to ask me before saying anything to them."

Yoshino sounded vaguely threatening. Kana had the vague impression that she was playing some sort of high-stakes chess game.

"I don't know what Natsuki did, but it sounds like you're taking Touma's side," Kana said. "This tells me he must have done something quite stupid. He must have, for Touma to react like this. However, Haruka just spent the last fifteen minutes berating him and changing his mind. I have no doubt she'll succeed eventually, if she hasn't already. No matter how angry Touma is, or how devastated, this state of affairs can't last."

"Talk to her," Kana urged. "Between you and Haruka, I'm sure we'll get them to work something out. We can mediate. Bring her out."

"I already talked to her," Yoshino said, briskly. "Frankly, Touma is under an incredible amount of stress, and she only went to sleep three hours ago. I don't want her to collapse. Let her sleep."

"They're not going to like waiting…" Kana said, after a moment.

"I don't care. When she wakes up, which probably won't be until the afternoon, I can try to work on her some more. And then if I think she's ready, I will call you and if you think Natsuki is ready, I can have the chauffeur pick you up. But not until then."

"I don't care what you have to tell them," Yoshino continued, "but you try showing up at the gate before I call you, and you will never get in, I promise you."

Kana sighed, looking at Haruka's dented alarm clock. She wondered how that had happened.

"I can arrange this," Kana agreed, finally.

* * *

"Please, Natsuki, calm down," Haruka urged. "It's far too early to involve the police."

"Haruka," Kana said, showing up behind her, second pigtail now complete.

"What?" Haruka asked, looking back.

"Tell him to wait. I need you to do something."

_

* * *

The sound of Haruka crying, through the door._

_"Nee-chan," she said, pulling on Kana's dress to try and get her attention. Kana was behaving strangely too; her face was weird._

_"Nee-chan!"_

_Kana finally looked down at her. Her face wore an expression Chiaki had never seen._

_"What's wrong with Haruka-nee-san?" she asked. "Why is she crying?"_

_Strangely, she had difficulty forming the words. Was she lisping?_

_Kana looked as if she, too, was struggling to speak._

_"Father…father is gone."_

_Chiaki was frustrated._

_"I know that! Auntie already told me that! But no one will tell me where he's gone!"_

_Kana turned her face away._

_"He-"_

_Suddenly, she ran off, without finishing the sentence._

_The woman they called aunt loomed over her, impossibly tall. Her face was tragic._

_"Say, Chiaki-chan, why…why don't I make you some mochi? And get you some of that soda you like?"_

_"Sure!" she responded, automatically._

_But then she turned back, looking towards the closed door._

_"But…"_

_"Come on!" the woman said, pulling at her. "You deserve a bit of happiness, today."_

_The scene faded to oblivion._

_"Nee-chan," she said, again seeking Kana's attention._

_Kana looked up from the desk they three shared._

_"What is it?" she asked, still dressed in that strange yellow uniform._

_"Takeru-kun, he said…"_

_Chiaki wasn't sure if she should be asking this._

_"What? What did he say?" Kana asked, turning to give Chiaki full attention._

_"He was talking to auntie, and he said that if mother were still here, father probably wouldn't have worked so hard. He probably wouldn't have-"_

_"Oh, he said that, did he?" Kana asked, looking angry for some reason._

_Kana got up and headed for the door._

_"That damn baka-yaro!" she said, storming out, using a phrase a seven-year-old like her really shouldn't know._

_Chiaki puzzled over what "baka-yaro" meant. She had never heard that phrase before._

_Suddenly, yelling._

_Chiaki pressed her ear to the door of their room, not noticing her abrupt change in location._

_"-I don't care if they're taking care of us! I hate living here! It's cramped and the food tastes bad, and that damn fool Takeru doesn't know how to keep his mouth shut! He's older than you! He should know better!" Kana said. Chiaki didn't have to strain to hear it._

_"Look, like it or not, we're stuck here," Haruka said back. "And they've done nothing wrong. We're just going to have to gratefully—"_

_"Why should we have to?" Kana demanded._

_The scene dissolved._

_Outside, lying on the grass, night time. The breeze washed coolly over her skin as she lay on the grass. She could feel every blade of grass in her back, could not only see every star in the sky, but also the faint hint of light from the ground blotting them out, a reminder they were still in a town._

I can't possibly be dreaming, can I?_ A distant part of her wondered._

_"You see that star?" the girl next to her said, pointing._

_"Uh-huh," Chiaki responded, looking at where she was pointing. The girl sounded like a younger version of Touma._

_"That's Polaris. The North Star," Touma said. "My father said that if you look at it, and wish really hard, your wish might come true."_

_"Really?" Chiaki asked, angling her head up to look at Touma. Despite the clarity of the scene, the wet dew on the grass as she her hand down, she couldn't quite make out her face clearly. Touma looked…seven, maybe?_

_"Well," Touma said, sounding embarrassed. "I'm not sure I have the story right. And I'm not sure I'm pointing at the right one. I guess I'll ask him again later."_

_Chiaki thought about it._

_"Is there a Southern Star? I think if I wished using that star, it would work better."_

_Touma laughed, melodically. It resonated in her ears, didn't sound like Touma at all._

_"Maybe, maybe. But there isn't, I don't think."_

Chiaki's eyes opened.

She leveraged herself up, putting a hand to her head. She had a slight headache.

_Why a dream about that, after all these years?_

_And that last part, it was so real…_

Chiaki shook her head. It was just a dream. Nothing about it made sense. Touma wasn't older than her, she hadn't known her that long, and she was pretty sure Touma never had seen her father.

But the rest was memory. Some of it she had almost forgotten, but it was memory.

_Why now?_

She looked at the clock, then stared incredulously.

_I'm late again!_

Chiaki started to get up, looking around.

Where were Haruka and Kana?

She made her way to the living room, deciding not to change just yet.

_They're not home. Where are they? They wouldn't just leave me behind, would they?_

A dark cloud settled in her heart—until she turned the corner and spotted Kana at the table, seated next to eggs, vegetables, and rice. She sighed in relief.

"Hey, baka-yaro! What are doing sitting here all quiet like that? What happened to waking me up? And where's Haruka?"

Kana jerked her head around, clearly startled by Chiaki's appearance in the doorway.

_It's not like I was sneaking up on her_, Chiaki thought.

"Ah, good morning Chiaki! Your breakfast is right here, as you can see. Haruka had something to do, so she isn't here."

Kana smiled warmly.

_What is this? _Chiaki thought._ No complaints about making her late? No idiotic comments? Showing hospitality?_

She sat down warily, eating her food as Kana watched.

"How was it?" Kana asked when the last bit of egg went down. "It was good, yes?"

"Yes," Chiaki said, feeling uncomfortable.

"Good, I made it," Kana said.

_Did I just accidentally compliment her cooking? _Chiaki thought.

"Is that what this is about?" Chiaki asked. "You're creeping me out with the staring. You want me to hit you with Fujioka? I can grab him off the shelf."

"Oh, no," Kana said. "I was just wondering if you remembered anything about these dreams you keep having. You worry us. It might be revealing."

Chiaki froze briefly, glass of milk in hand.

"No," she said.

She proceeded to drink the rest of the glass in one gulp.

Kana narrowed her eyes.

"That's not true, is it?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Chiaki said, starting to get up to wash her dishes. Normally Haruka did that, in the interests of time, but, of course, she wasn't here.

Kana grabbed the edge of her pajamas.

"Tell your sisters something once in a while. You wouldn't have lied if you didn't think it meant anything."

"I told you already, idiot. I don't want to talk about it. Look, we have school-"

"Do you really dislike me this much? I've been trying to talk to you and all I get is rebuffs. I can appreciate maybe not wanting to talk about whatever it was yesterday, but for something like this?"

Chiaki looked down at her, then sat back down.

"Fine. If you really must know, the dream yesterday was about swimming. I dreamt I learned to swim. There was some other stuff, but that was pretty much it."

"I really should teach you to swim someday," Kana said wistfully.

"I've had enough of your 'teaching', thank you very much," Chiaki said.

"What about today?"

"Today…"

Kana raised an eyebrow as Chiaki paused.

"I dreamt about my childhood," Chiaki said, looking down. "You know, back when we used to live with Takeru. I don't know why I'd be dreaming about that-"

She stopped, having looked up and noticed the surprisingly worried look on Kana's face.

"Anything unusual about it?" Kana asked hastily. "I mean, anything confusing?"

"Not really," Chiaki said, nonplussed. "Just, you know, stuff that happened back then."

"I see," Kana said.

Too late, Chiaki remembered that strange second part of the dream, with Touma.

"It's just that you used to have dreams like that when we first moved here, too," she said, by way of explanation. "You really worried us, back then. I hope it's not some sort of relapse."

"Really?" Chiaki asked, surprised.

"Yes. You don't remember?" Kana asked, equally surprised.

Chiaki shook her head. She had no recollection of this at all.

"Ah, well, don't worry about it too much," Kana said. "It's probably just the stress."

Kana was trying too hard not to look worried, Chiaki thought, which only increased her own unease.

"What is Haruka doing? " Chiaki asked. "It's not like her to be out this early."

"Ah, well," Kana began, scratching the back of her head nervously. "There's been a bit of an incident."

Chiaki merely looked at her inquisitively.

"Touma's brothers found out, like we knew they would eventually," Kana explained, trying to downplay its severity. "It didn't go well. She ended up staying at Yoshino's. Haruka's at Touma's right now, trying to smooth things over."

"I see," Chiaki said, swallowing. Her heart was starting to beat faster.

"We're going to go over after lunch, if we can. I took the day off. I'm here to take you to school, so we can explain why you keep being late—are you okay, Chiaki? You look pale."

Chiaki felt like she was having the greatest episode of déjà vu she had ever had.

"I-I'm fine," she said, in what sounded too much like a gasp for breath.

Kana eyed her with concern.

"I'll take the day off," Chiaki said, managing to calm down. "I'll go with you. I can't leave her alone for something like this."

Kana nodded knowingly.

"I thought you'd say something like that. Alright, get changed. We're going to head out."

Kana watched Chiaki get up to walk back to her room. The moment she rounded the corner, Kana pulled out her phone and quickly dialed.

"Kana?" Haruka asked, picking up.

"Bad news; it's just as we thought, with Chiaki."

"Then yesterday was-"

"Probably the same thing," Kana finished.

A brief pause.

"Why now? What could have triggered it?" Haruka asked, voice distressed.

"I don't know," Kana said, rushing her words. "I don't know. We need to figure it out. I have to hang up; she'll be back soon."

"I see," Haruka said.

She hung up without saying goodbye. Kana knew it was because she wanted to get back to talking with Touma's brothers, and forget about Chiaki, for now, lest she get too emotional.

Kana regarded the cell phone in her hand.

_I've made a mistake. I've opened Pandora's Box. I cut it too fine. I hope they will forgive me._

_

* * *

Touma chortled._

"_Aniki! I'm doing it!" she yelled in glee, moving forward unsteadily on the small bicycle they had given her as a gift._

_She risked a look back._

_Akira followed closely behind her, only slightly older than her, clearly concerned by her lack of stability. Far back, the stoic-faced Natsuki said nothing, crossing his arms, but she knew he was happy._

_She toppled to the right._

"_Ah-"_

Touma woke with an exhalation of breath, mind grabbing at vestiges of the dreams of the night. Besides that, there had been that other, more crooked one…

Only a brief moment of disorientation at the unfamiliar surroundings.

A new day.

_One I have to face._

"Awake, huh?" Yoshino said, to her left.

Touma started, getting her arms tangled in the thick sheets.

"Goddamn it, Yoshino. Stop doing that! Were you standing there all night?"

"No, of course not," Yoshino said. "I was checking up on you. It's noon."

Touma rubbed her eyes.

"I told them to wake me up if you did…"

"I just got up too," Yoshino said, smiling amiably. "Come on, get dressed and we'll grab lunch. Well, brunch, I guess."

The two of them strolled down the hallway and down the spiral staircase. The maid polishing the banister greeted them, taking a good long look at Touma.

"It's the first time anyone but Uchida has ever stayed overnight," Yoshino said. "Well, here, anyway."

"I see…" Touma said. "So she uses the same room?"

Yoshino's eyes darted right to glance at something.

"Well, yes. You know I don't keep that many rooms open. I only have one guest bedroom."

_Sounds about right_, Touma thought.

"I should hold a party someday," Yoshino said. "I used to be shy about this, but the one at the other house went off pretty well, so I'm thinking about it."

"I see," Touma said, thinking about the event in question.

That had been eventful.

Touma had been expecting some sort of gigantic assortment of dishes, and was thus mildly surprised to find the table holding only some rice and a few dishes, along with some eggs and sausage, western style.

"The cook worked so hard on breakfast, I told him we'll just eat it along with lunch," Yoshino commented, sitting down. "It's a bit unorthodox, but I hope you don't mind."

"No, it's fine," Touma said, biting down on some by now stale French toast.

They sat at the end of a moderately-long table. Touma eyed the other seats, knowing that Yoshino normally ate lunch with her servants.

They ate in silence, Touma thinking that while the quantity of food might be small and their style rather inexotic, the execution was fantastic, similar to how Haruka might do it. Certainly better than anything Natsuki made. And the windows overlooking the garden gave the room quite the atmosphere.

As Touma swallowed the last of her miso soup, Yoshino cleared her throat.

"Last night was a little rushed, but we need to discuss your future here. Specifically, they already know you're here."

Touma successfully managed not to drop the bowl.

"That soon? Did they notice me leaving?"

"I don't know," Yoshino said. "I agreed to mediate. If you're ready to talk, I could call up Arisawa and have him bring them in. Well, assuming they're already there, but you get the idea."

"I haven't really even had time to think," Touma said. "It's just one thing after another, than I collapse into bed and I get up and I have more decisions to make."

_Haven't even had time to think about Makoto…_

"I can try to imagine," Yoshino said, nodding.

"I guess I knew this couldn't possibly last long," Touma continued resignedly, sticking to topic. "But still, I had hoped I could stay at least a day before having to go back-"

Her eyes hardened.

"But there is one condition. I will not accept anything like them trying to restrain me because of this. Disapproval I'm fine with. Lack of support I'm fine with. But grounding or blackmail with my allowance—I won't take something like that. I'm prepared to stay here as long as necessary-ah, well, as long as you're willing to have me."

Yoshino handed her plate offhand to a butler who had shown up to clear the table. How she treated her servants while alone and while there were guests were too entirely different things, they all understood. It was necessary to keep a veneer up. They waited for him to leave.

"We discussed this last night," Yoshino said, sipping some of the Earl Grey that was now in front of them. "I'm perfectly prepared to keep you here indefinitely. The food costs and such don't matter. But I really hope it doesn't come to that. I'm prepared to do quite a lot to make sure it doesn't come to that, in fact."

"I wouldn't want that either," Touma said gloomily. "I wouldn't want to freeload like that. But if things really came to that…I don't know what else I could do."

"Well," Yoshino said, deliberately cheerful, pausing for rhetorical effect. "I don't think things will come to that. It's mostly Natsuki right?"

"Yes," Touma said, looking depressed. "Haruo is unhappy, but he would never do more than tell me how much he disapproves. Akira is—it's really not his fault. But Natsuki is honestly the most important person in our family. He cooks, he cleans...the others generally listen to him."

"Yes," Yoshino said, adding sugar to Touma's cup of tea. "And the last time I talked to them—it seems that Natsuki has softened his tone considerably, especially now that the three sisters are in his ear about it. Things are definitely negotiable."

"Haruka, huh," Touma commented, after a moment. She hadn't thought of that possibility.

"Well, yes," Yoshino said, a little surprised. "Something special about her in particular? Ah, that's right, they used to go to the same school."

"They did," Touma agreed.

_I knew it! _Yoshino thought but didn't say.

"What do you say, then?" Yoshino asked, holding her teacup and smiling. "I think things are looking up. If Natsuki is bending, then maybe we can bring things to a tolerable ending. Just talk to them. End this."

"Hold on," Touma said. "When you said the three sisters, that includes Chiaki, right?"

"Of course."

Touma thought about it. It wouldn't be a pleasant conversation with her brothers, but she really couldn't avoid it, could it? And if it had already pulled in everyone else…

"Alright," Touma said. "Call your chauffeur."

"Awesome. Drink your tea."

* * *

Touma didn't know what she had been expecting, but it was certainly not what she got.

Firstly, Touma had frankly been expecting the car she had rid in the day for, but instead watched a large van pull up.

"There are more than four people," Yoshino said, raising an eyebrow skeptically. "Unless you would have preferred I sent the limo. That could have been arranged. I only have one chauffeur, and I didn't want to ask any of the others-"

"Ah, no, nevermind," Touma said.

_Of course, more than four people. Obviously. _

They watched as it parked itself behind a small group of small cars and, yes, a limo.

Touma swallowed, covertly. She had no idea what this would be like. True, she had left before when particularly angry, but that had been different. She had never snuck out; she had packed quite openly, and had never followed through with actually staying overnight. Overshadowing all of that was the seriousness of the topic—compared to this, a screaming argument over food in the fridge was downright trivial. And she had never been prepared to simply walk away and leave, if things turned out a certain way.

She didn't know what to make of Akira dashing suddenly down the center of the covered carport, and flinched when he finally reached her.

Instead of the various unlikely possibilities that flashed through her mind during those brief seconds, he placed his arms around her and embraced her, tightly, head on her shoulder.

"Uh-" she began, eyes darting around to find someone to give her advice. All she found was Yoshino smiling back.

"I was so worried!" Akira said, not letting go. "You said you were fine, but how could I be sure? I couldn't think of where you could go. I thought you were hiding in a cheap hotel somewhere. The things that could happen to a girl…"

_Hug him back!_ Yoshino mouthed at her, making a corresponding gesture with her arms.

Touma did so.

Akira pulled back after a second, teary-eyed, hands on her shoulders.

"Please don't do that again. We could have worked it out. You didn't have to leave."

This was quite a lot of emotion coming from Akira. His eyes were bloodshot. Had she really struck that deep a chord?

"As you can see, he missed you," Kana said, walking up behind him with the other sisters.

"Good afternoon, Touma," Haruka said. "You doing well?"

"I'm fine," she responded. In the background, Arisawa unobtrusively slipped back into the house.

Haruka looked about to say something else but she didn't get a chance too.

"Hey, baka-yaro," Chiaki said, cutting in-between Touma and Akira and stabbing at her with a finger. "Any reason why you came here instead of our house? You would have been perfectly welcome. We could have got this resolved sooner."

Touma looked to her side.

"Well, I figured that would be too obvious. And I've been asking too much of your hospitality anyway—"

"That doesn't matter!" Chiaki said.

"Are you kidding?" Kana interjected. "The last thing I want is spend the whole night keeping you two off of each other!"

"Kana!" Haruka protested, looking at her askance.

"I've been waiting a long time to make that joke," Kana explained into the sudden silence, resolutely refusing to look shamed.

"Yeah, well, you could have saved it," Chiaki said, overriding any embarrassment that might have been present. "Anyway, thanks to _you-"_

Again she pointed at Touma.

"Thanks to you, I just spent four hours being poked and prodded and subjected to questions by your brothers, especially that…Natsuki. I hope you're satisfied."

Chiaki paused noticeably before spitting out Natsuki's name. Haruka, for her part, glanced at Chiaki for her tactless words, but said nothing.

Chiaki was being especially acerbic, Touma thought, which probably meant she was unusually worried and going with her typical coping mechanism. It made sense. Her words may seem thoughtless, but she knew that Touma knew that she was worried.

Touma smiled slightly.

Touma shook her head vigorously, trying to get back into the moment.

"What's taking the other two so long, Akira?" she asked.

Akira, who was leaning on the wall with eyes closed, stirred. He was exhausted, Touma realized.

"I don't know," he said. "They stayed behind to get some stuff ready, but I don't know what could be taking them so-oh there they are."

Natsuki and Haruo had finally started walking up, looking strongly uncomfortable. Touma, too, tensed up. Was that a giant bruise on Natsuki's chin?

Natsuki elbowed Haruo, who pulled out the hand Touma hadn't realized he was hiding behind his back.

"As a reconciliation gift of sorts," he said, adjusting his glasses nervously, "We got this six-pack of those pudding cups you like so much. We promise none of us will eat it this time. Isn't that right, _Natsuki_?"

Haruo almost ground his teeth saying that last word; he was clearly not happy with Natsuki.

Touma accepted the proffered gift. It was nice, but-

Natsuki pretended not to notice anything Haruo had said.

"Also," Natsuki said, "I was told flowers were a good idea, so we got those."

He sounded seriously skeptical of the notion, but he indeed had a bouquet in hand.

_Really? Flowers? _Touma thought. _Whose idea was that?_

She didn't notice Haruka trying to look as innocent as possible. Haruka had read Touma's confusion off of her face.

_So maybe the flowers weren't necessary, _she thought. _But they looked so nice…_

"Ah, yes," Touma said, accepting these as well, hands now full of stuff. She was starting the feel that the situation was a little strange…

"Anyway," Natsuki said, not looking at anything in particular. "I'm not happy with the situation between you two"—he gestured aimlessly in she and Chiaki's direction—"and you'll definitely hear about it from me. But I accept that I was a little harsh in what I did yesterday. I will confine my…displeasure to stinging comments, conversations about danger, and conveyed disapproval."

His words seemed rehearsed. Haruka, who had moved next to him, glared at him from the side of her eyes and made a "continue" gesture with her hand.

"And I 'm sorry," he finished.

Touma knew that Natsuki was trying as hard as he could.

"And I'm sorry for making you worry so much," she said quickly. "I shouldn't have just left like that. But I hope you two will be willing to accept me, disapproval or not."

She deliberately left out Akira, who was watching quietly from her left.

"We'll see," Natsuki said, and Touma could hear in his voice that there was still quite a ways to go to convince him.

Still, it was something. Something to build off of.

"Also, you owe me 4000 yen," he said.

"What?" Touma asked, not understanding.

Natsuki exhaled with an audible "oof" as Haruka elbowed him in the side.

"Bad joke," she said.

"I was just trying…" he responded.

"Let's go home," Akira said, appearing at Touma's shoulder.

Touma looked down for a moment.

"I don't mind going back, but is it alright if I stay here for another day? I just want to…experience it a bit more, I guess."

The rest looked at her.

"I guess there's nothing wrong with that," Haruo said, after a while. Natsuki just crossed his arms and frowned, but said nothing,

"I don't mind," Yoshino said, managing to contain her surprise. "It could be fun!"

"If you're willing to stay, we could even make it a thing," Touma said, looking at Chiaki. Chiaki looked back.

"We didn't bring any of her clothes," Haruka commented, thoughtfully.

"It'll be fine," Yoshino said. "I have plenty of spares. This isn't a bad idea. I should call Uchida. She's probably worried about me for not showing up to school. Why don't the rest of you come in? I'm not going to let guests show up at my door and then just leave."

"I guess," Kana said, eyes looking up, clearly thinking about whether she wanted to try and join.

"Come on, leave them alone for once," Haruka said to her, _sotto voce_. "It's not like it's just the two of them, and you always were sort of too old for them."

"Fine," Kana said, a tad reluctantly.

They headed in, but Touma lagged behind. As expected, Yoshino caught the hint and lagged behind also, waving the rest of them on and saying she had to take care of something.

"Mind explaining this?" Yoshino asked, when they were alone. "I don't mind having people, and I wouldn't have called you out on inviting people into my house, but it is sort of rude. It's also sort of strange. Why didn't you mention it earlier?"

"I've got my reasons," Touma said. "And I only thought of it now. You'll see soon enough. That's all I can promise. Mind if I bring Mako-chan here tomorrow?"

"Mako-chan?" Yoshino repeated. "I guess. Why not today?"

"You'll see. Just…tomorrow."

Yoshino looked into the middle distance, considering.

"Fine, but I better get an explanation for this," Yoshino said, finally. "Now come on, let's go in. I've got to play hostess."

She strode in, short hair shifting just a little over her shoulders.

Touma followed.

* * *

"I really admire you, you know," Haruo said, apropos of nothing.

"Hmm?" Haruka queried, looking up, not having initially realized he was talking to her.

The two other remaining at the table looked up as well. Most had departed a while ago to go pick up Uchida. Natsuki had left just a moment ago to find the bathroom. That left only him, her, and Yoshino seated in the shade under the veranda. The breeze through the veranda was nice and cooling.

"If it's not too personal a question," Haruo said, shoulders bowed in his seat. "How old were you when you three started living alone?"

Haruka considered a moment, wondering at the motives behind the question, not the answer, which she had known right away.

"Fourteen," she said. "Why?"

"I was about the same age," he said, swirling his teacup in his hand. "But it was too early. I couldn't take it."

He took a gulp of his tea. His eyes were gloomy.

"Between the part-time jobs, school, and the housework, it was just too much. I really let things fall apart and honestly I stopped…caring. I didn't even do a thing when Natsuki started being a delinquent. I don't know why he changed his path, but his taking over at home really changed everything. But my point is, you figured it out somehow, and that's quite admirable."

Haruka looked at her hands.

"I didn't have to work any part-time jobs. Our family supported us, and our father apparently had quite the life insurance policy, along with what he left us. I didn't have to work. I still don't have to. It helps a lot."

"I can't help but think that if I had performed better, none of this would have happened," Haruo said.

"Hey, it's not so bad," Yoshino said, trying to change the mood. "You guys are together, and want to be together. That helps a lot."

Haruo smiled, shrugged, and drained his tea. Then he looked up thoughtfully.

"Especially Touma. I barely spend any time with her."

"Why?" Yoshino asked.

"Well…"

"What is this, a pity party?" Natsuki asked, appearing suddenly behind him. He sounded annoyed.

"They're back," Natsuki indicated.

Haruo wondered how long he had been listening

"Then we should probably get going," Haruka said, getting up.

"You're welcome to stay for dinner," Yoshino invited.

"No, that's fine," Natsuki said. "We've been here long enough."

"Actually…" Haruo began.

They looked at him curiously.

I want to do one more thing before we leave," Haruo said, reaching into a large pocket in his pants.

* * *

"Really? You want a picture?" Touma asked, looking at Haruo incredulously. This was why they were called to the garden?

"Sure," Haruo said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I mean, if you ever got a boyfriend, and I could approve of him, my plan was always to take a picture right at the beginning. It's not quite the same, but Chiaki turns out to be someone I can approve of, at least as a person, so you know, it seems like a good idea. If you really last as a couple, you'll be glad I took them."

Natsuki looked at him askance, partly surprised. Whenever they had discussed it before, he had always denied the possibility and made it quite clear he would never accept anyone. yet here he was admitting that not only had he thought about it before, but he even had this absurd plan involving a camera.

Haruka looked at Touma thoughtfully.

"It's not a bad idea," she said.

Touma and Chiaki exchanged glances warily.

_But we're not even sure if-oh God, how am I going to explain Makoto in this situation? Kana! Yoshino! Bail me out!_

She looked for Yoshino, but Yoshino turned to say something to Uchida, and otherwise did nothing.

_Damn hypocrite_, she thought, then looked desperately to Kana.

Kana just looked back at her.

"We should take a picture of them holding hands," she said. "It'll make for good blackmail."

_Et tu, Kana?_

"Come on, strike a pose!" Haruo said.

"Screw it," Touma said, giving in to the pressure, to Chiaki. "Let's just do this."

"But-!"

Touma grabbed Chiaki by the shoulder, exactly as Yoshino had grabbed her yesterday, and Haruo took the picture in that one moment. Touma smiled weakly. In the background, a picturesque pathway, veranda, set of strategically placed sakura trees and view of the city.

"Do this!" Uchida suggested, holding her hands up with two fingers forming a "V" sign.

They complied, except Chiaki placed it behind Touma's head.

"Did you really need to do that?" Touma asked.

"You have a complaint?" Chiaki asked.

The next picture was of a shoving match.

The one after that was of Touma bending down and placing her head on Chiaki's shoulder, exactly what one might do to a younger sister. Chiaki wore one of her typical "I don't know how I ended up in this situation" expressions.

Chiaki looked strangely tired, suddenly.

"Is something wrong?" Touma asked.

Chiaki shook her head no.

The last one was the one Kana had demanded, complete with blushing.

"Can we go now?" Touma asked, suddenly mortified. "Please?"

"Yeah, I think we're done here," Haruo said, fiddling with the camera.

"Please don't post it on the internet," Touma added. "I'll kill you if anyone sees any of it."

"Relax," Haruo said dismissively. "I'm just going to print them and put them in your album."

Touma hated that thing.

"Could you send us a copy too?" Haruka asked.

"Of course."

Touma couldn't even gather the energy to protest. Chiaki just watched Haruka.

Haruka gave Chiaki admonitions about taking care of herself, while Touma explained that she expected to be back tomorrow night, and, yes, of course, she was going to school tomorrow, she had her uniform and everything.

Akira stopped by at the last moment, as the rest were already starting to leave.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, bending down and looking at her with bloodshot eyes. "I thought we could do better than this."

"Get some sleep, Akira," she responded, startled, saying the first thing that came to mind. "You're starting to get weird. You need it."

He smiled vaguely and walked off down the path.

Touma heaved a sigh of relief when they finally left.

"I wonder how those pictures are going to turn out," Chiaki said, after a moment. Touma looked at her in surprise.

"What? I'm curious," Chiaki said.

"I think they'll turn out great!" Uchida said, walking over with Yoshino. "You should have seen yourselves! You were adorable!"

"I have to agree," Yoshino said, neutrally, but with just a hint of a smile.

"Can we do something else now?" Touma asked, pleading with her eyes.

"I'll show you guys the entertainment center," Yoshino said, conceding. "Of course you've seen it before, Touma, but I got a few more games this time that might interest you."

* * *

"Who were you calling?" Yoshino asked, looking up from where she was laying, on her frankly massive bed. "You were gone for quite a while."

Uchida walked into the room, closing the door behind her, walking past the fresh flowers stuck in a vase on a sidetable.

"Makoto. You should have seen him with the two of you gone. He showed up in our classroom at lunch, looking crazy and saying something about sneaking out. He was convinced something was wrong, especially when you turned out to be gone too. I talked him out of it, but it's not like you guys didn't worry me."

"Well, it's not like I had any way to reach you," Yoshino said.

"When you called me, I promised him I'd call him afterward and tell him what's going on," Uchida added, joining the others in a circle on the bed.

"Isn't it kind of late?" Chiaki asked.

"Yeah, well, I forgot for a couple of hours…" Uchida said, shamefacedly, joining their seated circle on the bed. "But he took it surprisingly well."

"Uh-huh," Chiaki said skeptically, as both she and Touma made mental notes to ask about it later.

"Well, anyway, I have something I want to ask," Chiaki continued.

They looked at her.

"Have you girls ever had any really weird dreams?" Chiaki asked. "You know, really strange ones, that leave you with a strange feeling?"

"I'm not sure what you mean, but I don't think so," Yoshino commented, after they had processed the question.

"I once had a dream where they brought a panda to school," Uchida said, finger to chin, "and I think Makoto tried to ride it. That was pretty weird."

"Is there a reason you ask?" Touma asked, scratching the sole of her foot. She had always eschewed formal pajamas, opting instead for a sleeveless T-shirt and shorts, and for once Chiaki was wearing similar attire, borrowed from Yoshino.

"I don't know what to make of these dreams I've been having," Chiaki said. "They're just so _vivid_."

Uchida tilted her head. Chiaki wasn't usually one to talk about these things, even in an intimate setting like this.

"What were they about?" Yoshino asked, sitting up.

"Well the one yesterday was pretty random," Chiaki said, head slightly bowed. "But I was swimming, and I've never had a dream about _that_. And at the end, after I woke up, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was forgetting something really important. It was almost like I discovered something really important while asleep."

Yoshino looked thoughtful for a moment.

"That doesn't necessarily mean anything. Dreams can often elicit strong emotion. There are a lot of nightmares where, if you really stop to think about it, it wasn't really scary at all. But you're terrified anyway."

"And it doesn't really make sense to be that happy if-" Uchida began, suddenly stopping herself.

They looked at her questioningly.

"Ah, nevermind," she said, shrinking from their looks.

"What really bothers me is the dream today," Chiaki said, after a moment of waiting.

They looked at her expectantly.

"It started off with dreams about the past, memories of my childhood," she said, "but at the end was one that wasn't real at all."

Touma shrugged, her now unencumbered breasts shifting under her shirt, a fact Chiaki noted.

"I have those all the time," Touma said. "One moment I'm dreaming about third grade, the next I'm stabbing aliens in the eye."

Chiaki swallowed, mouth suddenly dry.

"A-anyway. It's not just that. The thing is it seemed so _real_, almost like I was reliving it. Everything, the grass, the stars—they were all crystal-clear. But it never happened. In fact, it's couldn't possibly have happened."

They watched her.

"Well, don't keep us in suspense," Yoshino said, after a moment. "What it was it about?"

Chiaki took a deep breath. She wasn't used to talking about things like this.

"I was five—and that's one of the things: if it wasn't real, then why am I so sure how old I was? Anyway, I'm on this field of grass somewhere, and I'm watching the stars with this girl, this seven-year-old, and she looks exactly like you, Touma. In fact, she is you."

She pinned Touma with her eyes, for just a moment, seeing Touma look back wide-eyed.

"But it's impossible, she continued. "It never could have happened. I didn't live here when I was that old, and you're not that much older than me. And she even mentioned something about talking to her father."

"Not to mention I'd remember something like that," Touma said, wide-eyed.

"Exactly," Chiaki said. "It doesn't make any sense. But the worst part is, she-_you _said something about looking at the pole star, and making wishes on it, which is not something I've ever heard. But I've always had vague memories about that star, and I look for it if I happen to be looking at the sky. I've always thought it was something from my father…"

The others glanced at each other.

"It gives me the shivers," Chiaki said.

Touma looked strongly disturbed.

"Well," Yoshino said, after a moment of thought. "There's been a lot going on recently with Touma, and it's probably gotten into your head somehow. It's mixed with one of your childhood memories and caused something like this. Have you two gone stargazing or anything?"

"I don't think so," Chiaki said.

"No wait, remember?" Touma interjected, looking relieved suddenly. "That time when we got lost in those hills. It was nighttime, and we were stuck out there, and just before that weird guy showed up, you were looking at the sky and mumbling something."

Chiaki's eyes made contact with hers.

"I said something like that?"

"Well, yes, don't you remember?"

"Well, I remember looking at the stars…"

"That settles it then," Uchida interrupting, sitting up. "That's obviously what it is. There's no need to be worried about it."

Chiaki thought about it.

"Yeah, I guess," she conceded, relaxing.

"That's still strange, though…" Touma said.

They all looked at each other for a long moment.

"Well," Yoshino said, finally, changing the subject. "We should decide how we're going to spend the rest of this night. I plan to stay up a little, but probably not that much, considering we're still going to school."

"Gah, why can't it be break already!" Uchida complained. "I want that week off! And I'm tired of being first-year."

She pulled on her knees, restless.

"Quit your whining, it's like two days away," Chiaki said.

"Still!"

"Anyway," Yoshino said sternly, clearing her throat. "We can mess around a little longer, but then we're going to have to decide how we're going to do this. I have sleeping bags, so there's no worries there. I think the most logical thing would be to divide us, two to this room and two the guest room. Or we could just all stay here. I daresay it won't be that crowded."

"The first one sounds about right," Uchida said. "They can go in the other and you and I can stay here, like always."

Yoshino made a sour face.

"Wait," Touma said, looking at Yoshino. "I thought you said that-"

"No, no, no, Uchida," Yoshino said, ignoring Touma entirely. "That wasn't what I meant. That wouldn't work. I mean, have you-"

Stopping suddenly, she grabbed Uchida by the arm and pulled her over to whisper in her ear, dragging some of the bedsheets with her.

About fifteen seconds in, Uchida blushed almost scarlet. The other two looked at them curiously.

"In that case," Uchida said, rubbing her face. "Let's just all stay here. That seems like a better idea anyway."

"Well I was going to say we're not going to get as much sleep if we do that," Yoshino said.

"I'm fine with whatever," Chiaki said hastily.

"Same here," Touma followed.

"Let's go get those sleeping bags then," Yoshino said.

"You mind sharing those pudding cups?" Uchida asked.

_

* * *

Author's note: Ah, psychology… _

_All hail Deus Haruka, ex Machina or not. I didn't plan for that to get resolved so quickly, but logic demands that things happen logically. Or something._

_There's several scenes here I wish I could actually draw._

_I feel like I'm walking a fine line sometimes…_


	11. Through the Looking Glass

_"You want to move out? Again? I thought we discussed this already."_

_"Yes, I know," Haruka responded. "I know it's earlier than we planned, but I think we're ready. And the school year is about to end, so if we move quickly-"_

_"Yes, yes," the woman said, almost dismissively._

_She was seated across from Haruka and Chiaki. At one end of the table, Kana glowered._

_Chiaki realized suddenly, that she was dreaming. But she had no desire to interrupt the course of events._

_"I'm sure you've thought it out perfectly, Haruka-chan," their aunt said. "You plan it out perfectly, every time we discuss this, and my answer has always been the same. It's true that you're a marvel at housework, but I told you, just because you _can_ live alone doesn't mean you should."_

_"But we want to-" Haruka began._

_"I know you do. I can't understand it. Is it really that bad living here? I've told you already, you're not a burden to us."_

_"It's too crowded in this house," Kana said, low and impatient. "It's not any fun living here. We're in the middle of nowhere and there's nothing to do. And frankly-"_

_"Think about what you're saying, Kana-chan," the man at the other end of the table said, leaning forward, annoyed enough to finally speak. "If you were to move out, Haruka would have to take on all the household burdens. Even if she could handle that, my intention always was that you three, especially her, would enjoy a normal childhood. Show some maturity! Is that really worth it so you can have more 'fun'?"_

_A distant part of Chiaki registered amusement at the line. Kana had always been like that. But even though she was a participant, she felt curiously detached, like an observer, completely aware and totally unaware of what was going on._

_"It's not just-" Kana began, but Haruka cut her off with her hand._

_"Let me handle it," Haruka said, with just a hint of authority. _

_"I know you don't understand why we want to leave," she continued, addressing the other side of the table vaguely. "But this time we have another compelling reason."_

_"Oh? What's that?" the woman asked._

_For the first time in this conversation, Haruka acknowledged Chiaki's presence, glancing meaningfully in her direction._

_"We think a change of scenery will be good," Haruka said. "Sort of like a breath of fresh air. I think we all want a fresh start. And Kana's right; there are a lot more things to do in the city. We're not suited for this country life."_

_"And what makes you think forcing her to move a second time will accomplish?" their uncle asked, sounding annoyed. "Besides making things worse?"_

_Haruka looked down at the table._

_"Just think about it for a bit. We-"_

_"There are too many memories in this house," Kana interjected, sitting up. She looked around to make sure she had their attention. She did._

_"We want to leave them behind," she said. "We don't want to have to remember any of it. A new life, fresh faces, back in the city. It will be good for all of us. Especially her."_

_"We'll see," the man said skeptically._

I remember_, Chiaki thought, ignoring whatever it was the others were continuing to say. _

_A few weeks later, their relatives had surprised them by driving them to the city to look at housing._

_A month later, everything was different again._

_Chiaki got up and walked outside, breaking the chain of memory. It didn't seem to matter._

_She got on the tiny bicycle, one she knew Haruka gave away years ago, and rode out along the deserted streets, rode by the shuttered shops of the dying town._

_She stopped by the entrance of the deserted primary school, simply dropping her bicycle on the pavement and running in._

_"So you came after all," the voice said._

_The boy stood in the shade of one of the trees._

Makoto!_ the conscious part of her exclaimed, but even that was not enough to disturb the string of events._

_She stepped backward in shock and surprise, but stopped almost as quickly, squinting._

_Boy?_

_"What the hell are you doing?" she heard herself asking._

_"Damn it," Mako-chan said, pouting, voice higher now. "I almost had you."_

_She pulled out a comb and smoothed her hair back down, put hairpin back in place._

_"What's with the get-up?" Chiaki asked._

_"I just wanted to try something," she said, shrugging. "It was easier than I thought it would be. I think it might be helpful. So why are you late?"_

_Chiaki looked away._

_"It was harder to dodge my sisters than I thought, but I was able to do it. I just had to wait"_

_Mako-chan's lip curled slightly, a minor gesture, but to the conscious Chiaki, it was deeply, deeply disturbing. She realized that the hairpin was gone, and the hair back to spiky. She looked like Makoto again. She had never realized just how much they looked like each other. Cousins?_

_"Well," Makoto said, "that's what I was thinking about. Maybe if I dress as a boy, that will make them accept me. I don't know what they have against me."_

_"Neither do I," Chiaki said._

_A sound behind her, and suddenly the girl was gone. Chiaki looked around desperately, but Mako-chan had disappeared into thin air._

_She ran forward, panicking._

"_Where are you?" she shouted._

_The crushing loneliness—_

_"I knew you were sneaking around out here," Kana said from behind her._

Chiaki woke with a startled gasp.

"Holy crap," Touma exclaimed, recoiling. She had apparently been leaning right over Chiaki's face.

"She's awake!" Yoshino said, kneeling to her right.

"Oh, thank goodness!" a female voice said. "I guess we won't need that cold water."

The young woman rushed over and Chiaki dimly registered her as the "chief housekeeper" she had met, that one time in the countryside.

"You feeling okay?" she asked with a concerned expression, crouching down.

"I'm fine," she said, pushing herself up into a sitting position, throwing aside the cover to her sleeping bag. "What the hell are you all doing?"

She had been careful to inject a note of annoyance into her voice, trying to mask the effect of the dream on her, and also to hide the fact that she was already pretty sure what was going on.

_Why didn't I realize this might happen?_ she thought.

"We couldn't wake you," Uchida said, eyes wide. "We've tried everything! We tried shaking you, hitting you—Touma here was about to try pinching your nose and covering your mouth!"

Chiaki glanced at Touma, who looked briefly bemused.

"It works on Natsuki," Touma explained.

"She seems to be fine," the woman said, standing back up. "Should I get her breakfast?"

Chiaki glanced around at the half-eaten food on plates strewn around the carpet and realized they had eaten while they were waiting. They were also dressed, she realized.

"No, that's fine," she said, shaking her head. "I'll eat something on the way there."

_That's it. Bury yourself in mundane details._

The woman glanced at Yoshino queryingly.

"I'll have the cook do something then," she said, after a moment, leaving the room.

"I wouldn't want to make you guys any more late, after all," she said, crawling out and beginning the process of packing her sleeping bag.

"Aren't you curious what time it is?" Yoshino asked. "How do you know what time it is?"

_Right on target, as always,_ Chiaki thought.

She looked down, mostly to hide her expression.

"I looked at the clock."

Touma and Uchida glanced at Yoshino's bedside clock which, of course, was invisible from Chiaki's position, hidden behind the bed.

Yoshino opened her mouth to say something, but Uchida surprised her by talking first.

"Is this why you were late two days ago?" she asked, beseechingly. "You're never late!"

Chiaki remained silent, head bowed, making the packing process take much longer than it needed to. She felt her cheeks burn slightly.

"That's true," Touma continued, thoughtfully. "And all this talk about dreams—you looked like you were having a really bad one."

"And you didn't look surprised at all when we told you about it," Yoshino said, finishing the collective thought.

"It's just something, okay?" Chiaki said, not looking up. "It's not a big deal. All it does is make me late."

She clearly didn't want to talk about it.

The others glanced at each other, seated on the floor.

"It doesn't seem like you're sick…" Yoshino said, to the others as much as to her.

"Do you think…?" Uchida began, voice trailing off.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Touma asked, finally. "You know, whatever dreams you were having? It might be important."

"No," she said, without hesitating, pushing herself up off the floor.

"But—" Touma began.

"I'll be getting ready in the bathroom," Chiaki said decisively, striding out the door.

"Have you at least told your sisters?" Yoshino asked, as her back passed out of view.

She didn't answer, of course.

The dream didn't make sense, of course, she realized as she walked out. But it reminded her of something she had almost forgotten.

The crushing loneliness. She remembered it now. She would never let it happen again.

* * *

Makoto looked down at his right leg grimly, having placed it on the toilet to get an elevated view.

_Damn it. Kana was right. That's definitely hair. I'm going to have to do something about this or Mako-chan is going to raise more suspicion than it's worth._

_I could start wearing pants all the time as Mako-chan, but you know, that's really more plausible if I'm a guy. Maybe…I should shave and start wearing pants all the time unless I'm Mako-chan? But then what if we have swimming in PE?_

_Why does it matter? _He asked himself, a moment later. _Aren't you getting rid of her soon enough anyway?_

He stood there for a long moment, then moved back to the sink.

_What's wrong with me? Why can't I stop thinking about this?_

Over the past two weeks, he had been Mako-chan only once, far less than he usually did. It made sense; he no longer had the need for stealth he had before. He could go as himself, if he wished. Plus, there had been those days he had been grounded. Soon enough, he would never have to do it again.

So why did it nag at him like a bad itch?

Ever since Sunday, it had gotten progressively worse. He found himself more and more inclined to stare at what the girls were wearing, more inclined to stop outside shop windows and look, more inclined to imagine what he would look like wearing various things.

He shook his head violently and grabbed at his own head.

_It's just a bad habit! It'll stop if I wait long enough!_

He looked at himself in the mirror. HIs reflection reminded him of those dreams, which had been getting more intense, getting longer, developing more plot.

HIs hand was still in his hair. He shifted it slightly, so that it parted. That's right; he hadn't gotten a haircut in a while, and it was starting to get longer.

For a brief, disorienting moment, he had a vision of what it would look like if it really _did_ get longer, and if other things changed as well.

He lashed out with his right fist, barely stopping himself before it made contact with the glass.

_It's getting to me in the daytime too, now. I'm losing it._

He braced himself on the counter.

There was another thing about those dreams, too. Touma's involvement was getting heavier—had always _been_ heavy, now that he thought about it—

_That's another can of worms_, he thought. _What the hell do I want, anyway?_

How could he face them, either of them? But he had to, or else it would seem unusual. Especially after what had happened yesterday. He had to ask, as a friend, and he felt that—

_Of course I'm concerned! That'd be normal, even if—_

His heart burned in his chest. He stared at his reflection, stared at his own eyes in the mirror…

"Mako-chan!" his mother yelled through the door, startling him out of his trance. "What the heck are you doing in there? You're going to be late!"

What she left unsaid was her surprise that he was even up at all.

"I'll be done soon, okay?" he yelled back.

When he returned to his room after a suitably dignified pause, he shut his door and dug under his bed. He found it almost immediately, since he knew quite well where it was.

A single set of their school's female uniform, one he had kept instead of giving to Touma. Nominally, it was for "emergencies".

This was the summer uniform. This was the wrong season-

_No, no. Focus!_

He was going to hand it over to Touma. No sense in keeping it any longer, and he needed to get rid of it.

_Why?_ Part of him asked.

He ignored that question, just like he ignored all the others.

He stuffed it into a likely corner of his bag and buried it under his notebooks, taking care not to let anything hang out. It would make his bag even heavier than it already was, but he would just have to suffer.

There was nothing to be afraid of.

* * *

"It's good to hear things turned out alright," Makoto said, awkwardly, not sure what else to say.

"Yes, I suppose," Touma said, leaning against the wall. She seemed normal, but Makoto thought he could detect a slight tension. He knew why he was nervous, but why was she?

_It's normal, after what she's been through_, he thought. _It can't be easy to talk about this, even for her._

He thought for a moment. He knew he would normally say something, make some sort of joke, say something about how her experience was making him feel jealous, but he didn't think he had it in him. He couldn't even think of a good way of making it humorous.

_I might as well be carrying a 1000-watt sign saying something's wrong_, he thought sardonically.

"I—I guess we should head back, then," he said, turning to leave, fleeing the situation. "The next period is going to start pretty soon."

"Hold on a sec," she said.

Her voice seemed just a little off.

"What is it?" he asked, turning back. What was—

She was already next to him, pinning him to the wall with an elbow. Not too forcefully—he could have escaped had he really tried, but he was too surprised.

His blood pressure spiked.

He looked up, at her eyes above his, framed by hair, could feel her pushing up against him—

_This is just like that dream!_

"Wha—what are you doing, Touma? This—"

She tilted her head slightly.

"Your hair has gotten longer," she said blandly.

He looked away.

"Yes, I need to get a haircut. It's—please let me go. This isn't—"

Touma looked to her side, at the wall, but not really looking at the wall. He thought he saw her swallow.

She released him.

"What the hell was that?" he asked, immediately and instinctually.

"Sorry," she said, not really looking sorry. "I needed to test something."

"Everything you do is to test something!"

Touma just smiled vaguely.

It disturbed him. He had never seen this smile.

"I suppose. I want you to do something."

She looked at him.

He looked back, rubbing at his chest.

Touma looked up at the ceiling.

"For all Yoshino knows," she said airily, with almost no force behind her words. "There's still one thing I think she doesn't. I brought you one of your outfits. Wait for me after school, and you can change in the girls' bathroom. I'll cover for you."

"Wait—" Makoto began.

"And then we will visit Yoshino's," Touma continued, overriding him despite her still-aloof voice. "You haven't been there, right? I think you need a practice run. This will be perfect."

She looked at him, and again he looked back.

_This is the last thing I need! I…_

Why was she acting so strange?

"What's going on, Touma? Why do you sound so—"

"You will do it, won't you?" she asked, voice suddenly demanding and strong.

It wasn't that which affected him, but the way she had acted earlier, the constant need he felt to know what was going on, so that desire to protect.

He didn't want to do it, and frankly Yoshino scared him, but—

"Fine. I will," he said. "Your plan makes sense"—_some sense, anyway_—"but if there's something going on, I want to know."

He looked her, trying to extract words from her with his eyes.

She looked back and just smiled. That same, insane, vague smile that he had seen earlier. He didn't know what to make of it.

"We need to get back," she said, turning and walking away.

He just stared at her back.

She surprised him by turning her head back, still walking.

"I mean it," she said, this time with a hint of humor. "The chimes sounded while I was pinning you. I don't think you noticed."

_Shit!_

He ran after her.

* * *

"So what did you tell him?" Yoshino asked as they sat down at the four-desk table.

Following the normal pattern, they were in Uchida and Yoshino's classroom for lunch today. No one had really shown up yesterday, but still, best to follow the pattern.

"Just the truth," Touma said, after only the slightest of pauses. "Nothing special. Uchida seemed to have already been pretty thorough with her explanation yesterday."

"What about…" Yoshino asked, gesturing at Chiaki with her eyes.

"No. Not yet," Touma said. "I wouldn't even know how to describe it."

Next to her, Chiaki, wearing one of Uchida's spare uniforms, quietly unpacked her lunch, which today was identical to everyone else's. She didn't seem to be hearing a word they said. No one even took notice; this was pretty typical for her, in certain moods.

"She's been acting strange all day," Uchida said, not even pretending to be subtle. "I wonder what's going on."

"She doesn't want to talk about it," Touma said gloomily. "What can we do?"

She held up a piece of meat in her chopsticks, but seemed to have forgotten it was there.

"It's strange that a dream would affect her so much," Yoshino said, cracking the lid on her lunch. "I wonder what it was about?"

Touma shifted her hand—and the piece of food fell to the desk. Disappointed in herself, she picked it up and placed it on the lid, for later disposal.

They began to eat in silence. Chiaki, true to form, didn't even seem to have heard them.

"Where is Makoto, anyway?" Uchida asked after a while, to break the silence. "Wasn't he going to start eating lunch with us?"

"Probably with his friends," Yoshino said, skipping right past her main dish and munching on crackers and caviar. It was just like the cook to show off for something like this.

"I know what he said," she continued, carefully swallowing her food, "but it's still sort of strange for a guy to start eating lunch with a bunch of girls and totally abandon his own friends. At the very least, he's got, you know, split time."

"Maybe," Touma said, mouth full of food, gesturing with her chopsticks. "Maybe not. He rushed out the door when lunch started without even saying anything. We waited for him, but he didn't come back. I think he was carrying his stuff."

Chiaki placed her chopsticks down on the desk with a loud clatter, startling all of them.

"I'm going to the bathroom," she said, getting up and walking away determinedly.

They watched her walk away.

"I've never seen anyone that serious about going to the bathroom," Touma said, after a moment, thoughtful.

"Maybe she really wanted to go," Uchida commented.

* * *

_I have truly lost it this time._

He hid in one of the stalls of the boy's bathroom, holding up the dress shirt of the female uniform he had pulled out of his bag.

It was such a simple plan. Bring it with him, give it to Touma after school. Simple. If Touma wanted him to be Mako-chan again, wearing something else, then fine, he would. It shouldn't even make a difference.

But the more he thought about it, the more it nagged at him.

He was giving it away, his one chance to do it again. His one escape route after he finally fulfilled his promise to Touma, closed the book on Mako-chan, and forgot about that part of himself forever. His one way out, and he was giving it away.

_It shouldn't matter!_

_But it does! I know it does!_

He knew why he had been desperate that morning to get rid of it. It was a temptation, one he couldn't risk being close to, one he had to dispose of. But when it came to actually doing so…

He clutched the fabric in his hands.

_What the hell is wrong with me?_

It was then that he had a truly crazy idea, one that defied all sense of reason.

He held the shirt up, stared at it, and could almost feel his own pupils dilate.

_No, I can't! What am I—_

Irresistibly, he moved his hand towards his collar, getting ready to make the change, the absurd logic drumming itself in his mind.

_Do this, just once, _it said, _and you'll never feel the urge again. After all, what else would there be left to do?_

_And if I'm caught, then I certainly won't do so again—for a different reason._

It was horribly illogical, and he knew it, but the temptation now was so, so strong—

A loud crashing noise, just outside the entranceway, shocked him from his trance. He looked down at his unbuttoned shirt in horror, and hurried to put it back together.

"Oy! Watch where the hell you're going, baka-yaro!" shouted a voice, muffled by distance and the doorway to his bathroom stall.

His eyes widened. He knew that voice, of course.

* * *

Chiaki rubbed her backside, having fallen to the floor from the collision. She had been so focused in looking around her that she hadn't seen the third-year male, equally oblivious, walking the other way.

Yes, she was aware of the contradiction there.

_Well, this is a disaster_, she thought, morbidly.

"I ought to lay you out," she growled at the student now trying to help her up.

"I said I was sorry already!" he protested.

She shoved herself up, eschewing the pro-offered hand.

"I'd like to hear it a couple more times," she said, glaring at him, fist raised.

Chiaki was frustrated, and enjoyed taking it out on others.

The student backed off a couple of steps.

"First-years these days…" he commented, to whom she couldn't tell.

He then fled headlong.

Chiaki sighed.

She didn't know what she had been thinking, believing she could find Makoto just by going out and looking. A full circuit of the floor had yielded nothing, and had wasted significant amounts of time. Clearly, he didn't want to be found.

She leaned against the window on the side of the hall and stared out the window, at the many students, and rare couples, dining under the trees.

Chiaki stood there for a long moment, watching.

_I should just go back. I'm not accomplishing anything out here. I'll catch him after school._

She turned, sighing again, and noted the restrooms on the other side of the hallway.

_Now that you mention it, I do kind of need to go_, she convinced herself._ No sense wasting this trip—_

A slight movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention. She tilted her head slightly.

_Oh?_

She lunged forward, jerking Makoto out of the entranceway before he had a chance to react, grabbing him by the collar.

"Stalking me, are you?"

"N—No!" he spluttered. "Stalking? No, I just happened to be here!"

"Uh-huh," she said, skeptical. She let go of him though, confident he wouldn't go so far as to actually _run_.

He rubbed at his neck, circling back to pick up his dropped bag, wondering why everyone was so _violent_ today.

"Any reason you've been avoiding me the whole day?" she asked, arms crossed.

That was perfectly true. He had spent the whole day finding obvious excuses to leave every time she so much as glanced in his general direction—well, between classes, anyway. He had never before made so many bathroom trips in one day.

Makoto stiffened, still in the process of picking his bag up off the floor.

"No I haven't!" he said, way too late.

"Like hell you haven't. Come on," she ordered, gesturing with her finger that he should follow.

He turned to look.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"Somewhere else," she said simply, already leaving, confident that he would follow.

He did.

* * *

He found himself in the abandoned wing of the school.

"I wonder why they'd just leave a place like this," he commented, mostly to himself.

"They're reopening it in a week," Chiaki said, surprising him by responding. "Since they've gotten rid of the termites."

She didn't look back though.

"Oh, I see," he said, thinking he had never heard about these termites.

Chiaki slid open the door to one of the empty classrooms and stepped in, beckoning him to follow.

"I think we're isolated enough now," she said, turning to look at him for the first time in the entire walk. "Close that door."

He realized as he slid the door closed that he was very, very nervous.

"Now," she said, briskly, leaning on a dust-covered desk. "Let's hear about why you've been avoiding me. I have a few theories, but I want to hear it from you."

He hesitated in answering, which gave Chiaki time to review her plans mentally.

Among the theories she had in mind was the one Chiaki thought of as "Yoshino's theory". She didn't want to believe it, but it seemed disturbingly likely.

_So what if they have fallen for each other? _Part of her thought. _You're not ready for this. It hurts you. You don't want this._

She looked down at her hand.

_That's a lie. Even if it hurts, I won't stand for being left alone!_

_I don't want to be alone again._

"Chiaki?" Makoto asked, finally, tentatively. He hadn't said a word. Based on her previous behavior, he had expected her to continue acting brusque, demanding answers, but instead found her looking pensive, staring at her hands.

That seemed to wake her. She glanced around rapidly and stood up straight. She continued without missing a beat.

"So? Was it because of what happened yesterday? Are you unhappy about being left out? Or the fact that no one told you?" she asked, rapid-fire.

"I-" Makoto began, standing nervously.

"Touma must have told you," she said, overriding him, providing answers she clearly already had prepared. "There was no time; things were happening too fast. And after that, it wouldn't really have been appropriate to invite you."

"I wasn't-" Makoto said.

"Though, you know," Chiaki drove on, oblivious. "It probably didn't make sense to have both me and her, but Yoshino is an excellent chaperone, and I got sort of roped in—"

"Chiaki!" he yelled.

She stopped, obviously shocked at herself.

She was rambling. He had never heard her do so before. Between that and her erratic behavior…

"I was okay with it," he said, as reassuringly as he could. "Really. Though I would have wished for someone to call me. It's not as if I don't care. Then again, I don't really have a cell phone..."

Babbling on about tangential topics, he felt strangely less nervous. It was no longer like an interrogation.

Chiaki thought. Despite what she had said about "theories", she realized that he had just rejected her best alternative. Then—

She sucked in a breath, loudly enough for Makoto to stop talking.

"Is it possible that you saw?" she asked, looking at him carefully and earnestly.

"Saw what?" he asked, after a moment, looking back.

She searched his eyes. He looked nervous, but didn't seem to know.

The possible implications of that tore at her.

_No! You're assuming too much!_

Even if he hadn't, there were other perfectly good explanations.

_Still…_

She risked an extra detail.

"Tuesday, after the game? If you didn't see, then nevermind."

She tried to say it almost flippantly.

His eyes widened and darted around wildly.

"How—how did you know I saw?" he said, horrified. "I haven't even told Touma that! Did Akira say something?"

Almost paradoxically, Chiaki relaxed. She had at least prepared an answer for this.

_So that was how he knew_, she realized.

"Maybe he did," she said, dragging out the words. "But if you saw it, then you also know that…it didn't quite turn out…"

Her voice trailed off. This in and of itself was pretty bad.

"I saw," he said, his eyes focused on the wooden chair next to him instead of on her.

"I should be angry at her," he said quietly, after a moment, continuing his strange pattern of avoiding her eyes. "But it's funny."

He thought about what he should say.

"I can't be angry at her," he continued. "I hope that makes sense. But I am jealous, of course."

He smiled wanly, a quiet version of the winning smile he didn't know he had, subconsciously try to make her happy.

It didn't work this time.

Chiaki didn't say anything. He had blown her hopes apart.

"Chiaki?" he asked, trying to make eye contact.

She again lunged forward, but this time grabbing him by the shoulders. He looked at her in shock. She had been so rigidly composed a moment ago, but now—now, she looked in despair. And he had no idea why.

"Then why?" she demanded, eyes pleading, shaking him forcefully. "Why are you avoiding me? Is it because I haven't been paying enough attention to you? You know why. I thought you understood—"

"Of course I do!" he yelled, trying to stem the tide. "I care for her too! Yes, maybe I'm a little jealous, but I swallow it, since I care too."

Strangely, that seemed to make it worse.

"Then why?" she demanded. "You're avoiding me, but you haven't given me a single reason! Are you giving up? Are you giving up just because she's kissed me? You know I hate being given up on!"

_If you two abandon me—_

"And if you were worried by the way I banned you from the house—that was partly jealousy, with the whole Haruka thing. That goes both ways. Though I admit it started off one way."

She punched him softly in the chest with her right hand, once, then again, a pale imitation of her usual instinctive violence.

"You baka-yaro…" she said quietly.

Makoto looked at her with shock and a small dose of fear.

"No, of course not—"

"If Yoshino is right…" she interrupted, looking him in the eye, swallowing to stabilize her shaky voice. "If Yoshino is right, then please don't leave me behind. That's all I ask. Just don't leave me alone."

"Yoshino?" Makoto managed to say. "What are you talking about?"

Chiaki looked straight at the ground.

"I suppose I should demonstrate to you what you're missing," she said.

"What are you—" he began.

She pressed her lips against his.

A warm body, warm lips—for a long moment he was lost. It was…electric. There was no other way to describe it. And the way she moved…

It ended, leaving him panting.

Then, and only then, did his mind recover.

"Chiaki—"he tried to say.

Her face seemed to twitch. She crossed her arms, as if cold.

"Chiaki?" he asked, confused and worried.

"It hurts," she said, but clearly not in response to him, looking somewhere else entirely. "I don't know why."

"Tell me what's wrong, Chiaki!"

He raised his arm to emphasize what he was saying.

"Lunch is almost over," she said mechanically, turning to leave.

"Chiaki, I—" he began again, to what was suddenly an empty room.

_I love you! I can't stand to see you like this._

He sank to his knees.

_There's no way I can leave her now._

* * *

Standing outside the door like he was, Makoto couldn't help but overhear.

Okay, so maybe he leaned over just a little to get closer, and maybe he could simply have moved to avoid eavesdropping, but the point remained that he hadn't intended to overhear.

"Chiaki-chan," their homeroom instructor said, muffled by the partially-closed door of the room. "Ordinarily, 'family business' would be none of my business—"

"It isn't," she growled in response. Makoto could hear the annoyance even from where he stood.

"—but it becomes so when it starts to interfere with your studies," the man persisted. "And it is indeed part of my duties to monitor your welfare. Now, it's true that it's the end of the year and it's not too big a deal—"

"Damn straight," Chiaki said.

During the pause that followed, Makoto imagined their teacher sighing.

"I'm just concerned, okay?" the teacher said sympathetically. "It'd be one thing if you were just missing class, but your behavior is getting strange. For one thing, you're zoning out in class."

"I'll focus more," Chiaki said, making it clear she wanted this conversation over.

"That's not the point," he insisted. "I've never had to worry about you before. I just want some assurance that things are fine."

"You have it. They're fine," she shot back, not giving an inch.

Makoto knew that Chiaki's interactions with their teacher were normally quite friendly. But if he were her, in this conversation, he didn't know that he would have been any less acrid.

"Do you mind bringing one of your sisters?" he asked, trying a different tack. "It must be hard on them, with no parents. Even a phone call—"

"What the hell are you trying to imply? No!" she said, clearly angry now.

"What if I call—"

"What the hell are you doing?" Touma asked, pulling Makoto away from the classroom doorway, where he had mysteriously ended up with his ear right at the edge of the partially closed door.

Makoto shifted guiltily.

"You were taking so long to get back, and I didn't really have anything to do, and I couldn't stand in there—"

"Forget it," she said, clearly not buying any of it. "And club business takes time, okay? I didn't know they would be looking for me either."

Makoto looked straight at her, which meant looking at her neck. So distracting—

"Let's go," she added, starting to walk away.

"Actually…" he began tentatively.

She stopped and looked back.

"Could you tell me exactly what you're planning?" he asked, shifting, this time from the awkwardness. "I mean, I'm not sure anymore if I want to do this, and it would help if I knew what you were doing."

He lamented how frustrating it was to ask something without being to say exactly _what_ he was asking, or being able to explain the real reasons behind his asking, beyond a vague "I'm not sure if…"

She grabbed him by the wrist, startling him.

"Trying to back out, huh? Well I won't let you!"

He tried to protest, but as she dragged him down the hallway, she ignored his words without any sign of acknowledgement, and he knew she wouldn't let him go.

She dragged him into the bent entryway of the nearest girl's bathroom before sticking her head in to look around.

"It's clear," she said, shoving her bag into his hands. "It's all in the bag, go find a stall."

"But—"

"Just do it!"

He walked to the nearest stall, guiltily glancing around.

_Well, the rumors about the bathroom, at least, seem to be untrue_, he thought sardonically, opening the bag.

He'd noticed that whenever Touma chose clothes for him, she had a bias toward the more feminine items in his collection. That seemed to suit her taste. He couldn't even protest, since he had bought them in the first place.

He took a deep breath, and began to change.

"Looking good," she said when he finally emerged again.

"Ah, thanks, I guess," he said.

He looked at her impassive face. It wasn't her style to compliment him. Or was she trying to needle him?

They headed out. The padded bra bothered him, but he knew he'd get used to it again soon enough.

They found Yoshino's car already waiting for them discreetly.

"You're late," Uchida complained, opening the passenger side door. Yoshino watched them from deeper inside.

"Sorry," Touma said. "It takes some time for Mako-chan to get here from her school, you see."

Uchida rolled her eyes.

"We could have picked her up," Yoshino commented, leaning forward.

"No need, no need," Touma responded, quite politely, before sticking her head into the pitch-black car.

"I'm sorry, Uchida," she said. "Do you mind sitting in front? I've got stuff to say to Mako-chan here."

"I guess," Uchida said, trying to read Touma's face.

She got out and moved to the front passenger seat.

The moment Makoto sat down and closed the door, he grabbed Touma's sleeve.

"Uchida's here too?" he asked, whispering.

"Sure," she said, ignoring his implied signal to speak quietly. "Why not?"

While Makoto fumbled for a way to indicate his displeasure, Touma turned towards Yoshino.

"Chiaki has gone home, right?"

"Yes," Yoshino said, looking at her sidelong. "We didn't tell her. That's what you wanted, after all."

"Good, good," Touma said, seemingly satisfied.

They sat in silence for a while as the car drove.

"Ah, Mako-chan," Touma said suddenly, grabbing him by the shoulder. "I don't see enough of you! You should visit more often!"

Uchida looked back at them, only more perplexed now.

_What she is doing? _He thought. _What's the point in trying to fool Yoshino now?_

The other fact, the one he was trying to ignore, was that she was being uncomfortably intimate—enough that Yoshino looked at them wonderingly. He knew she didn't care very much, but he really wished she would remember that it was very distracting to guys such as him. Though it was strange; she didn't usually do this.

_No, that's not fair. How could Touma know you've been so irrational as to develop a crush on her?_

With that thought, he blushed irrepressibly.

Touma finally stopped her act, but it was already too late: Yoshino had already raised an eyebrow.

_Damn. I wonder what she's—_

No, he would avoid speculating on her thoughts. And she would know the truth soon enough.

He cringed, looking out the windows to his left, away from Yoshino and her dark, calculating eyes.

When no one said anything for a while, he examined the car to distract himself.

_Fancy_, he thought.

It was nothing compared to the mansion.

* * *

Eventually, after he finally finishing gawking, they finally settled in to crackers and other snacks. Makoto had wanted to try playing games on Yoshino's giant TV—even though he wasn't much of a gamer—but Touma had insisted they go under the gazebo outside to "enjoy the view." It had taken him too long, but he eventually realized the obvious underlying logic.

_More isolated, of course. This way it's just Yoshino, and not also whatever servants happen to be in the vicinity._

He quietly sipped Yoshino's weird foreign tea while the others chatted, making a face at the taste.

_The sugar doesn't hide the taste well enough._

"Give it a chance," Yoshino said, surprising him by addressing him directly. "You'll get used to it. Uchida did."

"It's pretty good, I think," Uchida said supportively.

"Yeah she got used to it," Touma said, setting her cup down on the ornate glass table. "After like seven _years_. Just give us green tea or something, like you used to do."

Yoshino pouted, a rare expression for her.

"It's Earl Grey, my favorite," she said, stubbornly. "I'm going to keep giving it to you until you like it. That's what I decided."

"You tell 'em!" Uchida added with sudden enthusiasm.

They looked at her questioningly.

"What? She looks passionate about it," Uchida said, slightly embarrassed.

After an awkward silence, Makoto drank the rest of his tea politely. Touma followed suit.

"Anyway," Touma said. "Mako-chan here has an announcement to make."

Yoshino and Uchida looked at him questioningly.

_Damn it, Touma! At least have the decency to warn me!_

He sat there looking at the table for a long moment, before finally propping himself on his arms and swallowing hard. He felt a surge of blood rush up his cheeks.

Uchida, watching him, suddenly intuited what was going on.

"You're not seriously going to—" she began, before biting her tongue and looking at Yoshino, who, wearing a look of strong interest, gave no sign of knowing what was coming.

Uchida didn't need to finish. The sheer astonishment on her face told him everything he needed to know.

Makoto swallowed hard, again.

_That's it. Time to get rid of this irrational fear of Yoshino._

"The—the truth is…"

_No, you're doing this wrong!_

He cleared his throat and began again, but this time in his normal "Makoto" voice.

"Mako-chan was never a real person. Mako-chan was just a way for me to get into Chiaki's house. I—"

He stopped, taking a deep breath to stabilize himself. He looked back at Yoshino's eyes, which showed astonishment and utter bafflement at the surreal nonsense he was suddenly spewing. He looked away.

"I am Makoto. I—I…always have been. Just me, wearing girl's clothes and…and a padded bra. I—"

He was blushing the darkest shade of red he had ever managed, he knew, but there was no helping it. He reached up and pulled the hairpin out of his hair, quickly rearranging it into its normal disheveled look.

"I'm sorry for deceiving you!" he said loudly, closing his eyes. "I just couldn't stand to be banned from her house, and one thing led to another, and…and…"

He opened his eyes, finally risking a look at Yoshino's face. She had set down her teacup and was looking back with a wide-eyed catatonic look.

"Y—Yoshino?" he asked, warily.

Her eye twitched slightly. She reached for her teacup, hand shaking.

"Oy, Yoshino!" Touma said, getting up and leaning on the table. Uchida waved a hand in front of her face.

Yoshino sat frozen for a long moment, tea sloshing back and forth in her cup.

Slowly, she stood up and turned away from them, abandoning her tea. Makoto braced himself for the worst.

She seemed to say something. They all leaned in to listen.

Without any warning, she started laughing, spasmodically and uncontrollably doubling over. The other three just watched, at first surprised, then unsure of what to do.

After what must have been a full minute, she finally stopped convulsing with laughter, managing to straighten herself back up and wipe the tears from her eyes.

Finally she slowed down. Makoto wasn't sure if this was a good or bad sign.

"I—I'm sorry," she said, turning back around, still trying to remove the crazy smile from her face. "That must have been the most I've ever been blindsided. The absurdity just got to me. I didn't have a clue. Congratulations on fooling me."

"I thought you might have figured it out," Makoto said, saying the only thing he could think of.

"Why would you think so?" Yoshino said, looking him over. "And—oh, god, you just look so hilarious now that I know who you are."

Makoto just stood, silently embarrassed, while she snickered for a little while longer.

After a long moment, she seemed to recover her poise.

"It makes so much sense, now that I think about," she said, looking up thoughtfully. "It explains so much."

She looked back down.

Makoto, looking in her eyes, could almost see the wheels turning in her head. That smirk of hers was maddening.

"Does Chiaki know?" she asked.

"No," he and Touma said, simultaneously.

"That's going to be a problem, isn't it?" Yoshino asked rhetorically, smirk fading.

"Yes, yes it is," Makoto said, rubbing the back of his head, suddenly very self-conscious in his dress. "This is, uh, practice for the real thing. Supposedly."

"I see," Yoshino said, preferring to keep her thoughts to herself, for now.

They looked at each other in silence.

"There's one more thing," Touma said, once she was sure it was safe to change subjects.

They looked at her.

"Pretty soon everyone will know about this," she said, confidentially, "but would you two mind if he still did this once in a while? You know, if he went shopping with us? He'd really like that."

Makoto just stared at her, blinking and speechless.

"That'd be perfectly fine," Uchida responded, instantly, still sitting.

"I guess that'd be okay," Yoshino said, failing to suppress a newfound smirk.

"Touma! I didn't ask for that!" he managed to finally exclaim, appalled. He leaned forward as he did so, causing his dress to swirl slightly around his ankles.

"Don't be so shy, Mako-chan," Touma said, also trying to keep her mouth from twitching into a smirk. "I'm just asking for you. You know you want to."

"Don't just—" he began.

"Come off it, Makoto," Uchida said, drinking her tea and emphasizing her sentences for rhetoric effect. "You're not fooling anyone. We all know you like it. We won't make fun of you…too much."

"That's right!" Yoshino said, looking at Uchida with the light of sudden comprehension. For a confused second, Makoto thought Yoshino was agreeing with the rest of them.

"You knew the whole time!" Yoshino said, leaning over Uchida menacingly. "This is what you were hiding from me!"

They experienced a brief moment of silence.

"Y—yes" Uchida said, after deciding she couldn't possibly lie, leaning away from Yoshino and eying her warily. "But you have to understand, it was necessary—"

"This deserves punishment!" Yoshino exclaimed, jumping over and pulling Uchida by the pigtails.

"NO! Not the hair! It hurts! Come on, stop!" Uchida exclaimed desperately, grabbing at Yoshino's hands.

Touma and Makoto watched the comedy routine for a brief moment.

"Speaking of which," Touma said, turning towards Makoto. "This is a good moment to discuss certain issues."

"Yes," Makoto said, now slightly incensed. "Such as how you keep pushing me into things."

"Something like that," Touma said, turning and putting her hands on the table.

"Do you two mind if we go somewhere else for a while?" she asked.

Yoshino and Uchida froze in place.

"Oh, I don't mind," Yoshino said.

"Sure, go ahead," Uchida agreed.

They walked off, leaving them to their fun.

* * *

"So this was your room, huh?" Makoto asked when she closed the door behind them. He had taken the time, just before entering the building, to return his own hair to the correct female conformation.

"Yes," Touma said. "Though only for the first day. It's too much to explain."

"I see."

Touma shuffled over to her bags in the corner, which were now somewhat disheveled due to her repeated need to rifle through them for toothbrushes and other necessary items. She kneeled down and began putting things back in order, preparing for her later return home.

Looking at her from the back, Makoto realized that her hair was starting to resemble Yoshino's. He wondered when, if ever, she would cut it back again.

He shifted nervously in the silence.

"So why—" he began, before cutting himself off, thinking better of it. He wanted to question Touma's actions, but had realized that doing so would open a can of worms he didn't want to get into.

Touma zipped up a bag in one loud, continuous motion, before standing up.

"You want to know why I keep trying to encourage you to be Mako-chan more, yes?" she asked, turning to look at him with one eye.

"It doesn't make sense," he said, seeing no way out of this discussion. "If you just wanted to see Mako-chan more often, for some crazy reason, then you wouldn't have convinced me to start confessing it to everyone."

"Yeah, crazy reason…" she commented, looking off to one side, chuckling half-heartedly.

"Hmm?" He asked, not sure he caught the sentence correctly.

"No, nevermind," she said. "You might want to sit down for this."

He did so, on the bed that was next to him, the one she had slept in, dreading what was coming.

"It makes perfect sense," she said, with a crooked smile. "And you know it. My goal isn't just to see Mako-chan more often. It's to make you admit it."

"What?" he asked.

"You responded too quickly," she said instantly, trying to pin him with a look. "If you hadn't been expecting that, you would have had to think about it. And you know what I'm talking about."

"I don't!" he insisted, trying to act as innocent as he could, but he knowing it would fail.

"It's just like Uchida said," Touma said, walking over to loom over him. Her face told him that, this once, she was not prepared to let it go.

"Come off it. No one believes you," she continued. "It was believable at the very beginning, but no one gets so good at it, works so hard at it, and goes out shopping so much on his own initiative, without some other reason. We see the zest in what you do."

She paused to recollect her thoughts.

"Just think about the speech you gave to me earlier and how deeply you were into it. I'm only saying what we've both already accepted. Yoshino just found out, but if I asked her, she would agree. You enjoy it."

"I do not!" he protested, but this debate was lost. It was too difficult to argue with someone who knew you that well. He could only continue to deny without elaboration.

"And you just admitted you know what I'm talking about," she said, leaning down and looking straight into his eyes. Her eyes showed a hint of mischief. "I saw the uniform you were hiding in your bag, Mako-chan. Far too obvious. You were being careless."

His eyes widened, and he blushed despite himself.

"What are you doing digging in my bag? That's—agh, nevermind. I was only bringing it to give it you! I wanted—I wanted to get rid of it!"

"Mhm," she said, standing back up and making a gesture with her hand. "And even if that were true, and you weren't bringing it to satisfy your own urge to dress up, then when why would you need to get rid of it? The most logical thing would be to keep it, for emergencies, which is what you've been doing."

She brought every logical argument she could think to bear, trying to checkmate him.

"I doubt you just suddenly had a bout of shame, after all these months," she elaborated. "And why give it to me, where it would still be distantly accessible? Why not throw it away?"

He stammered, trying to come up with an answer on the spot.

"You wanted to get rid of the temptation," Touma continued. "But you still couldn't bring yourself to get rid of it entirely. And if there's a temptation, then there must be something tempting about it."

She stopped to let that sentence sink in before continuing.

"When you're with your male friends, you act like an attention-grabbing idiot. You used to act like that around us too. But as you got more comfortable, you started doing it less and less. This is closer to your true self, isn't it? You only do that because that's the way you discovered you could fit in with them, but around Uchida and Yoshino, there's no need. And so you don't."

He bit his lip. Damn, they really did read each other like open books.

She leaned down again.

"It's such a simple first step. Just stop denying what you know to be true. We can work from there. What do you gain by it?"

"And what do I gain by admitting it?" he shot back, no longer able to contain himself, realizing full well he was conceding the point of fact. "What do I gain? I confirm to everyone that I'm crazy? You were right. I have to confess! I have to make it impossible to do this again!"

He dodged her gaze, losing composure slightly.

"That's the only way I can—can control myself! That's the only reason I agreed to this! Why—why do you keep getting in my way?"

"Such flawed logic," Touma said, shaking her head patronizingly. "It wouldn't stop you at all. All that you would have to do is to make the request I made for you today, and you could go right back to doing it! You'd just have to admit you want to."

"I would never admit that!" he said. "Even if—"

He stopped himself, biting his tongue just in time, but of course it didn't matter.

"What do you want?" he asked quietly. "Why does this matter so much to you?"

She sat down next to him.

"The real question is: 'what do _you_ want?'" she rebutted. "Because I guarantee it's not to spend the rest of your life miserable."

"It will go away eventually," he recited like a mantra, miserable. "It will go away, if I manage to suppress it long enough. It's just a bad habit Kana got me into."

"And what if it doesn't?" she asked.

He just looked down, wishing desperately that life had turned out different somehow.

"It really isn't fair," Touma said, after watching him for a while. "I've spent most of my life living the mirror image of what you want, but it's not even considered that strange. I'm just a tomboy. Whereas you—_you_ would be a pervert."

"I wanted desperately to be a boy when I was younger," she said, when he didn't say anything. "I think I told you that. And I tried, but of course it didn't work out. Not to mention my brothers were having none of it."

She absently looked at her fingernails, but in her mind dug through her own past. She spoke detachedly.

"I honestly thought I'd gotten over it, but when I met Fujioka, it turned out I hadn't. Not at all. It was just so relaxing, being able to act like myself, without him placing weird expectations on me. When he found out, I broke down. I actually _broke down_. I thought I was losing it forever."

"And you know, I sort of was. Fujioka tries his best, but I can tell he thinks of me differently now, just a little. It's not his fault. It wasn't really possible."

"I tried seeing if I could go back," she said, toying with her bangs. "And it seems the clothes, the hair: they don't really matter to me. But the attitude, the speech mannerisms, it feels so _unnatural_, so I stopped really trying. I'm sure you've noticed by now."

"I know," Makoto said softly.

Touma looked up in surprise at him finally reacting.

"I know it's not fair," he said, finally looking up at her. "But what the hell can I do? Life is what it is. I can't go around wishing things were a certain way. Like you said. It's not possible. No one will accept me. The only way out is to hope I can forget about it."

She looked at his slumped figure.

"You missed the whole point of what I was saying," Touma said, grabbing his shoulder.

"There will always be those who accept you," she said. "Fujioka accepted me, when I never thought he would. Chiaki did. All of you have. Even my brothers will eventually. And if one of you really did reject me, then there are always others."

"You heard what happened today. Uchida and Yoshino don't care. _I _don't care. And, in the end, you even dare to tell Chiaki. You would never do that if you didn't think she was okay with it! Your parents, the future—we'll cross that bridge when we come to it!"

She paused, trying to read his expression. She knew this realization had been long in coming, and that he had known all along, but that he had fought tooth and nail against it. She understood the process that underlay it.

"I know what it's like, okay?" Touma said, trying to get him to make eye contact. "I learned, the hard way, that as long as there's someone there for you, it doesn't matter. A true friend wouldn't care. Fujioka didn't. Chiaki will be there. I'll be there."

He started to move, and she removed her arm. She expected him to get up.

Instead, he leaned over and pressed his face into her arm, social taboos having just enough force to shift his aim. She didn't realize he was weeping until he felt the moisture soak through her thin shirtsleeve.

She stroked his hair.

"Life is so stupid," he said.

"I know," she said soothingly.

He sat up, wiping his eyes with his dress sleeve.

"I should stop ruining your shirts," he said.

"Too late," she said, smiling, thinking it was again time for some levity.

"When I said life is stupid," he began, looking away. "I meant something pretty specific."

Touma frowned, realizing this conversation was not ending in the way she had expected.

"I told you how I fell in love with Chiaki, how I wanted someone who would depend on me. Today, I was reminded of just how much I love her. But…"

"But you know, it's not bad having something to support me instead," he continued, looking wistful. "And you've got your own share of problems."

Touma widened her eyes.

"Now that I think about it, it's been true for a long time," he said, still avoiding her eyes. "But I never realized, not until recently, just how nice you are, how much support you need, how—how beautiful you are."

He swallowed, hard. He was starting to stutter.

"I love Chiaki, of course. But it's so stupid! I don't know how I let this happen. But after what you said, I just—just don't think I should hide it anymore. I shouldn't suppress it! You should know. You said you'd support me, so I'll take the risk—"

"I'm sorry!" he said, looking her desperately in the eyes, grabbing one of her hands. "This is a confession! I've fallen in love with you! I'm so, so stupid. I know you aren't attracted to guys, but I can't help but—If there were a chance, I'm not even sure which of you—I can't stand to lose—goddamn it, I don't even know what I'm saying! Just, just…"

He stopped, looking up at her wide eyes, breathing heavily.

"Well, now you know," he said gloomily, looking down at the bed sheet where she sat, waiting for the shocked diatribe he knew must come.

It didn't.

He looked up, finally, to find her staring at the floor, twisting her hair in her hand.

"You—" he began.

"I was so sure," she said. "My love for her is unassailable and unconditional. There is nothing I would not do for her. That is what I told myself."

"I was not wrong," she said, looking down. "But I forgot that love is not exclusive, whatever the romance novels say. Monomaniacal, yes, but we love our families, our friends, just in different ways. And should things change just a little, if one is just a little careless, then things may change flavors."

It wasn't perfectly expressed, but it was one of the most poetic things he had ever heard her say.

"I was surprised because I expected anything like this to manifest itself first as a weakening of my feelings for her, but that…wasn't necessary at all."

She looked at him, finally, and the conflict in her eyes looked strikingly, intimately familiar. They—

His eyes widened.

—looked just like his own, in the mirror that morning.

"You really—" he began.

"You wormed yourself in the backdoor, you bastard," smiling again that strange smile of hers. "I made myself sound so awesome, didn't I? Well, it's a pretty good question, why I care so much about Mako-chan. I thought it was only because I cared about you, but it's also—"

She shifted herself partially onto the bed and leaned far over, straight into his face, invading his personal space in a manner which, he suddenly realized, she had been doing for the entire day.

"I like a pretty face to look at just as much as any of you boys," she said, thumbing his hairpin. "And you're so much more tempting in this form."

He recoiled, head spinning, crawling backwards.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked, again blushing, trying not to look at her eyes, trying not to drown in her gaze.

"You look so cute when you do that, do you know that?" she said, moving over.

He realized that the headboard was right behind him and he had nowhere to retreat to.

"Such an unconventional guy," she said, grabbing her chin and forcing him to look back. "So passive, so emotional, so shy, and so…adorable. If there were any guy in the world I could fall for, it would have to be you."

"I know you're attracted," she continued.

He looked back into her eyes, so clear, and for that instant, the moment overrode his judgment, words he had heard earlier imprinting themselves on his thoughts.

_I…should know what I'm missing._

His arm shot out and grabbed the back of her head, pushing it forward, so that her lips were positioned perfectly over his. It didn't have much distance to travel.

He got in a long, long moment of bliss. Ten seconds, maybe, if he had had the presence of mind to count.

Touma twitched.

A thunderous impact to the side of his head, jolting him awake.

He looked up at the source.

Touma rubbed the back of her hand, blushing furiously.

"What the hell are you doing?" she asked.

He blinked rapidly. What _had_ he been doing?

"I—I thought that, you know—that maybe it was appropriate to—I, I got carried away, okay? But what the hell were _you_ doing?"

He almost yelled the last sentence, as if the louder he said it, the more the blame could be deflected away from him.

Touma looked away.

"You—you weren't supposed to actually do it! I, I was just, ah…"

She blushed furiously, making intricate nervous gestures with her hands.

It occurred to him that she, too, had gotten carried away.

"We're sunk," he said, sitting back up. "We have no goddamn clue anymore, do we? Who we want. I don't even know how to go about deciding. Do _you_ have any idea?"

Touma looked into the middle distance, having calmed down.

"We must tell her," she said. "It's only fair. Tomorrow, we can clarify everything. About you. About us. Maybe we can decide. Maybe we just…won't decide. Damn it, I don't know! I don't know. But the three of us will carry through."

"Touma…" he began. She looked at him.

"I'm not sure if it's safe," he said. "She's breaking apart. Something's wrong. I don't think—"

"Ah, geez!" Touma said, freshly aggravated. "You keep saying that, but…breaking apart?"

Touma stopped, narrowing her eyebrows in confusion, realizing he had never said this particular line before.

Makoto looked down.

"I—" he began, before stopping to think about it again.

"Let me tell you what happened at lunch," he said, finally.

Touma listened, with ever-increasing astonishment, as his story unfolded.

"Did she really—" Touma tried to ask, halfway through.

"Of course she did," Makoto said. "Why would I make this up? I doubt I'd have the imagination to. She's paranoid that we're abandoning her, and she won't talk about it. At all."

Touma realized something, and it showed on her face.

"That's—" she began. Makoto looked at her curiously.

"There's something else she won't talk about," she said. "She says she's been having these horrible dreams, but she won't tell us what they're about."

"Why do you say they're horrible then?" he asked.

"Because they affect her so much!" Touma said. "There was one just this morning, and you should have seen it! We couldn't wake her up, and the facial expressions she was making…"

She looked away, failing to finish the sentence.

"Anyway," she added. "I don't think you noticed, since you kept leaving for some reason, but she's been acting strange all day. Though I never thought _this_ strange. She told us the previous ones were about her childhood, but I'm not sure."

They sat and thought for a while.

"Do you see my point then?" he asked, finally. "I don't dare do anything. Any little thing—just my cross-dressing alone, for example—might do it. She can't take it anymore."

"She needs our support," Touma said.

"She won't take it," Makoto said. "For things like this, she doesn't trust anybody. She could never ask Yoshino for help like you did. Not me, not you, not her sisters. You know that's how it is. She's always gone it alone, but this time she might…snap."

"We have to talk to her," Touma said. "What good are we otherwise? If she won't take it, we have to make her. What other way is there? We can sort out the other stuff first. First we need to know what's eating at her."

After a moment, Makoto nodded, slowly, hands on his chest.

"We've been here too long," he said. "They'll be wondering what the heck we're doing. I…I hope she's alright. I won't be able to sleep tonight."

"Neither will I," Touma said. "Let's go."

They found Yoshino outside the doorway, tapping her foot impatiently. Uchida tilted her head.

"That took quite a while," she said. "I was afraid I was going to have to intervene."

Uchida and Makoto looked at her in confusion, but Touma leveled a harsh warning glare.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding, geez," Yoshino said, waving her hand. "Anyway, I have a great idea for dinner. I can take you guys to this place I know. Fancy and formal, but don't worry about it, I've got stuff you can wear. I already have a dress picked out for Makoto—I mean, Mako-chan here."

Makoto made a face but, unusually, didn't complain.

"Oh, that place? I love that place!" Uchida said.

Touma rubbed the back of her head.

"I guess, but I wouldn't feel right if we didn't pay—"

"Don't try," Uchida said. "You can't afford it."

Uchida realized immediately she had accidentally said the first thing that came to her mind.

Yoshino grimaced. The others looked at Uchida.

"What? It's true!" Uchida said, flustered, stubbornly refusing to admit error.

"Let's just go look at those dresses," Yoshino said, placing her face in her palm in intentionally open vexation. "When we get back, Yuka, I'm going to have a long talk with you about social niceties."

Uchida made an aggrieved expression and stuck out her tongue. Makoto and Touma glanced at each other.

"Let's just get going," Touma suggested.

* * *

"You sure you don't need any help with those bags?" he asked as they dropped him off in front of where he lived.

"Nah, I'm good," Touma said, waving back. "Thanks anyway."

He watched as the car pulled away.

Dinner had been…interesting. He had felt self-conscious, dressed as he was among all those strangers, but no one even stopped to look in his direction. Eventually, as he always had, he had gotten used to it.

He rubbed his belly. Kobe steak was indeed as good as they said it was, and Yoshino had over-ordered.

At first, he had been surprised at the decorum and politeness with which Uchida had carried herself, but it hadn't been hard to figure out the answer to that. She and Yoshino were practically attached at the hip, and she herself had implied she had been there before. Uchida was just used to it.

_Man, no wonder she's like that. Yoshino is spoiling her._

He had changed back in a garden shed isolated somewhere on Yoshino's property, after swearing her chauffeur up and down to secrecy. He had acceded, but not before shaking his head ruefully at the kinds of friends Yoshino was accruing.

"So it goes," he said out loud, looking out at the now dark scenery.

_I could get used to this_, he thought, to himself. _I really could._

He dug around in his bag for his door key. Yoshino had called during the afternoon, so his parents wouldn't be surprised by his lateness.

"I'm back," he announced, stepping over the threshold, looking around.

His father's shoes weren't there.

_That man never gets home on time_, he thought. Well, what of it?

He closed and locked the door behind him, taking his shoes off.

"Welcome back, Mako-chan" his mother said, appearing in the hallway.

She seemed to hesitate. Her eyes flashed at him.

"Mom?" he asked.

"Go drop your bag off in your room," she said. "I prepared some fruit and stuff."

"Can I at least shower first?" he asked. I'm not really hungry right now."

"Well, I cut them, so they'll oxidize if we wait any longer," she said. "Just eat what you can."

"Alright, fine."

She had an inalienable ritual: fruit and tea at night, and she always insisted he join. It could be worse.

He did as asked, dropping off his bag, but he stopped to carefully hide the uniform back under his bed.

_That's Mom for you_, he thought.

On rare occasions, she was the type to drop words like 'oxidize' into conversation. He never asked, but he was sure she was much more intelligent than she let on. She never had any trouble when he asked about homework, and in fact seemed to find most of it trivial.

Well, that didn't necessarily prove anything. He was only in middle school after all.

He sat down across from her, politely grabbing and eating a kiwi slice via the provided toothpick. He didn't like kiwi—he thought it was too sour—but she was always going on about vitamin C and whatnot, so he knew to just bear it, lest she scold him.

"Well, did you have fun?" she asked.

"Yeah, I did," he said, truthfully. "There's not much I can say. I think I told you before that Yoshino is wealthy. It was fairly interesting."

She smiled through the steam coming from her teacup.

"How was dinner?"

"We went out to eat, actually. It was…pretty good."

"I see."

She set down her teacup, grabbed a strawberry, and bit off most of it whole.

"Well, enough envious curiosity from me," she mumbled through the fruit, before pausing to swallow. "I'm given to understand Touma-kun was there also?"

"Yes," Makoto said blandly, managing not to give much away on his face.

"I was pretty surprised that you weren't interested in her," his mother said. "She's a nice girl."

He closed his eyes and made a face.

_Not again._

"Can we not talk about this?" he asked.

_Especially not now._

"I visited her house, you know," his mother said. "She's a brave girl."

"I see," he said, refraining from comment.

_How much does she know?_ he wondered. _What is she doing visiting Touma's house?_

"I was thinking…" she said, waiting for him to visibly pay attention. He reluctantly did so. He hoped she was switching topics.

"You know, back when you guys still had me fooled, I thought you guys would make a nice couple. She's pretty…tomboyish, don't you think? I thought it would complement you. That's what I thought."

She sipped her tea while he processed the sentence.

His hand twitched slightly.

_What is she implying?_

"Complement?" he asked out loud.

"She dresses a lot like a boy," his mother commented, seemingly not answering his question. "Well, most of the time."

She swallowed a kiwi carefully. He looked at her warily. He never knew how to talk to her.

"So I was thinking," she said, holding up her toothpick and spearing the air with it. "What's with all those dresses and stuff I found in your room that one time? They're hers, right? But I've never seen her wear any of it, or frankly, anything even resembling it. And if she's not your girlfriend, why did you have them?"

Makoto tensed. She had finally found the hole in the story they had weaved.

"W—well," he said nervously, trying not to sweat. "That's just it, you see. Her brothers—they don't really approve of the way she dresses; I'm sure you heard about. So, they keep buying her these things that she doesn't really want. And we had this idea that, uh, I should hold onto them for her and…let you find them, to throw you off the track. I'm sorry about that."

He suppressed a nervous chuckle. Those never helped. He was, however, proud of being able to extemporize the explanation he had used, as questionable and poorly delivered as it had been. It made just enough sense.

His mother stirred her tea with her pinky, a strange habit of hers.

"If that's so, then her brothers need to at least learn what sizes she wears," she said. "If she actually tried wearing any of the shirts I saw in her closet, not only would they probably not reach her waist, they'd be a little _restrictive_, if you know what I mean. What image do they have of her anyway? They'd just have to look at the shirts she actually wears!"

He shrugged, as nonchalantly as he could manage.

She drank the rest of her tea in one, sudden gulp, before getting up to refill the teapot from the hot water cooker on the counter.

He watched her sit back down. Then his eyes focused on her face.

Something was wrong.

"Not bad," she said, pushing the teacups and fruit aside, voice losing most of its previous casualness.

"Not bad," she repeated. "That was more plausible than I expected, even though it still didn't completely make sense. You're better at lying than I would have ever imagined. But I already knew that."

He stiffened, searching her face. He knew the fear showed in his eyes.

"But it's not good enough," she said, her face darkening. "Even if I were to buy a crazy explanation like that, your web of lies is too untenable now. For example, when I was chatting with Minami-san—Natsuki-kun, sorry, it's important I be clear about that—I was surprised to hear that he had never met you before. After all, didn't you both go on that trip to Yoshino's?"

He felt a drop of sweat crawl down the back of his neck. He didn't dare wipe it.

"Well, it's possible he's just forgetful," she said, "but I asked to see some of the pictures he took, and sure enough, you weren't in any of them. But that girl Mako-chan was all over the place. She looked pretty familiar, too. And I should probably also mention the bracelets and such I found in your drawer. The ones that matched the ones she was wearing."

She watched him from the other side of the table, face now serious and harsh.

He gave up entirely on maintaining a cool composure, collapsing forward to support his head with his arm.

_So is this it then? I have to admit it _now_? I thought I'd have at least a year or so more to hide it. I'm not ready! But what choice do I have? If I don't say it now, she'll say it for me!_

"You can stop now," he said, standing up. "I get it. You've figured it out."

"So what will you do now?" she asked, voice dangerously cool.

"I—"

He swallowed, steeling himself to make eye contact.

"I'll try to keep it a secret. My friends know, obviously. I'll just go on little trips, go shopping a little. That's all I want. Harmless."

He was conscious that what he was saying was the exact opposite of his own position, only that morning. A lot had changed.

She stood up, shoving her chair aside.

"No, it's not harmless," she said. "It's unacceptable."

"I won't accept that!" he exclaimed.

He expected her to be surprised by his minor outburst, but instead she just looked back, eyes hard and unreadable.

"I won't accept that," he said, breaking the eye contact and biting off his sentences. "I'll be like Touma. I'll just…deal with it. I don't care what you think."

His mother turned away, looking at the kitchen wall.

"I thought you'd say that. That's expected. It's not worth it. It really isn't. I won't accept this."

"I told I don't care!" he yelled back.

"Take your shower," she said, not looking back. "We'll talk about it tomorrow. You haven't escaped. And check your hair."

He turned and left, turning the corner, torn between angry and fearful. It was only as he approached his room that he realized there had been something weird about that conversation.

_It's not anything like I'd expect her to react._

She had also said…

He walked into the bathroom, and looked at the mirror. His jaw dropped.

His hair.

_I forgot to fix it! It's still Mako-chan! And I left the pink hairclip in!_

He pulled it out angrily.

_I'm so stupid!_

Why hadn't any of them reminded him?

His dreams that night were more tumultuous than ever.

* * *

She waited until Makoto left to collapse and lean on the wall.

Spinning around, she headed back for the room she and her husband shared.

Crouching in front of their closet, she found what she was looking for.

She clutched the old picture of the two of them in high school.

_I know what you would say, if you knew about this. You wouldn't approve of my response. You wouldn't. But it's not worth it. I know that._

_I just want him to have a normal life._

She heard the sound of the front door opening and wiped her face, getting up.

_Unlike me._

* * *

_Author's Notes:_

_Yoshinophobia _n. _1) An irrational fear of people, objects, or animals named "Yoshino". 2) An entirely rational fear of a certain girl from 'Minami-ke' named "Yoshino._

_Makoto has been missing for a while. He comes back with a vengeance._

_You know things are bad when you repeatedly screw up the gender pronouns. I must have accidentally called Makoto "she" at least seven times…_


	12. One More Day

Her eyes snapped open.

She looked around hastily, in confusion. The details of her bedroom fell into place around her. Her life, of reality, came flooding back.

Placing her hand on her forehead, she felt the beads of sweat on her brow.

_That's right; just a dream._

She sat up, pushing aside the blankets, and looked at the wall clock. For once, she hadn't awoken late, but instead far too early.

A thought occurred to her.

After glancing around, she unbuttoned the top two buttons of her pajama shirt, looking down.

She searched carefully.

Nothing there.

_Well, that doesn't prove anything—no, wait—_

She shifted positions slightly.

Yes, there it was, mostly obscured. A long-faded scar, barely noticeable. In fact she never _had_ noticed it, not until she knew where to look.

She shivered, chilled.

_So not just a dream._

She found the idea of going back to sleep there suddenly intolerable.

She looked over, at the curtain blocking the light, and stood up.

Soon, she was standing next to a different bed.

For a quiet moment, she watched Kana sleeping peacefully. In the background, the clock ticked.

Perhaps peaceful wasn't the right term, given the disarray into which Kana had pummeled her bedsheets, but she was definitely enjoying her sleep.

Kana shifted when she felt someone suddenly start clinging to her back, arm around her chest.

"…what are you doing?" she mumbled sleepily. "That's not—"

Her eyes snapped open, her consciousness finally breaking the surface.

"Chiaki?" she asked, turning her head to look behind her. "Is something wrong?"

Chiaki did not acknowledge her, but Kana could feel through her arms that she was shuddering.

After a long moment, Chiaki relaxed, the sounds of her breaths stabilizing.

Kana thought about it.

_Let her sleep._

Kana turned back, and tried to sleep.

* * *

"What bothers me is that I'm not sure if Chiaki knows or not," Makoto said, standing among the rows of desks.

It was the last day of the school year, and the students were understandably restless and inattentive. Their teacher this period had outright given up, giving them a period of study hall while she sat at her desk reading a magazine. For this day, standards could be relaxed.

"Of course she doesn't know," Touma said, seated on her desk, continuing the conversation in low tones. "You did a pretty good job of hiding it. You even surprised Yoshino."

Makoto shook his head, standing over her, watching as she frowned and tugged at her pant leg, straightening it.

"I guess you weren't there," he said, struggling to explain, trying to keep his voice down. "Several times, I've been absolutely certain she knows who Mako-chan is, and I was ready to tell her to stop messing with me. But always, immediately afterward, she does something that makes it impossible for me to think she knows. It's terribly confusing."

He shook his head at himself, realizing he had failed to be very coherent.

"Well, you see?" Touma responded. "She doesn't know. There's no need to be paranoid."

"But you don't understand!" Makoto exclaimed, briefly a bit too loud. "It doesn't make any sense! And if she does know, than it makes no sense for me to keep hiding it!"

Touma looked at him with a quizzical expression.

"Could you give an example?" Touma asked, after a moment. "How is it confusing?"

"It's just…sometimes she talks to me as Mako-chan, or talks about her, in such a way that she _must _be talking about me. Kana and I even talk about it in front of her sometimes, and she doesn't seem confused by what we're saying. Yet the next thing I know, she's telling Uchida about what a nice girl Mako-chan is, and what an idiot Makoto is, and she behaves towards…us…in totally different ways! It's…hard to explain."

"Uh-huh," Touma said, crossing her arms skeptically. "I still think you're being paranoid. But either way, I think you agree that the safest route for now is to say nothing."

Makoto turned his head to look behind him at Chiaki—or rather Chiaki's seat, since she seemed to have gone to the bathroom.

"Yes," he agreed, looking down. "But I can't hide it forever. Nor do I want to."

"Only for now, okay? We don't want to risk destabilizing her further—"

"What are you two talking about?" Chiaki asked, appearing at Makoto's side.

Touma's desk creaked as she suppressed a surprised jump.

"Makoto's mother," she said, improvising herself straight into a trap. "She…disapproves…of things."

Makoto looked at her with an expression that clearly conveyed his thoughts, namely: _Damn it, Touma! What kind of explanation was that?_

It was no longer safe for Chiaki to talk to his mother, as Touma well knew, since he had gone out of his way to mention it to her.

"Of what?" Chiaki asked.

"She has—I mean, Makoto has been forced to admit to her what's been going on. So now she thinks that you're…his girlfriend," Touma said, recovering. For Mako-chan cover story reasons, Makoto had never admitted being grounded to anyone but Touma, much less told anyone else what he had told his mother. She was using a different truth to direct her away from the important truth.

Chiaki's eyes widened slightly.

Makoto's expression now said: _Stop talking, Touma!_

"Is this true?" Chiaki asked, turned slightly to face Makoto.

"Yes," he said, marshalling all his previous experience in bald-faced lying "she was starting to ask uncomfortable questions, so I had to say _something_. And it was way too complicated to explain _everything_, but you know how it is, once you say you're trying to get this girl, your parents just go ahead and assume whatever they want."

He chuckled nervously, feeling the pressure of her gaze.

"She's starting to wonder why she's never seen you," Makoto said, picking up the previous thread and doing his best to run with it. "She thinks I must be trying to hide something about you. So we're trying to think of ways to stop her questions."

Makoto spotted Touma with her face in the palm of her hand, a gesture of incredulous despair. He didn't understand—

"I don't see why we couldn't just visit," Chiaki said, tilting her head. "Specifically, me. That'd be the quickest way to resolve things, right? We wouldn't have to tell her anything else. I don't mind if she thinks the wrong thing."

_Oh, that's why_, Makoto thought, realizing that in his and Touma's intricate dance of deception, she had missed a step, but he had just slipped and fell.

"Are you sure you want to do that?" Touma asked, attempting to salvage the situation. "It would be tremendously awkward."

_She actually suggested it! _Touma thought. _And here I was thinking she hated awkward social situations…_

Chiaki grimaced.

"And meeting your brothers wasn't? I'll live. If it saves him some trouble, it's worth it."

Touma and Makoto shared a look. They knew that deep under her outer shell, Chiaki did care enough to help, but she was rarely so transparent about it.

They also hoped the other would have some good reason to dissuade the trip. Neither did.

"I guess we could…"Makoto said, trying a delaying strategy. "I mean, we can eventually…"

"Tomorrow, maybe," Chiaki said. "It's the weekend, and there's no reason to wait."

Makoto cringed internally.

"Should I go?" Touma asked, switching the focus to practical matters. She was surrendering.

"Of course," Chiaki said. "I'd prefer to have you there, even if it would be kind of strange."

Chiaki waited to see if they would say anything. The other two stayed silent, trying to think up ways to prevent Makoto's mother from telling her anything.

After a suitable pause, Chiaki was satisfied that it was time to change topics.

"I would have suggested today, actually," she said. "But I have a different idea for that. Today's the last day of school! Are we just going to go home? We should celebrate. Get Yoshino and Uchida, go shopping, eat some ice cream. Something like that."

That triggered a warning sensor in Touma's head. She rarely suggested going on trips, preferring to simply agree with whatever ideas other people had. In the unlikely event she desperately wanted to go somewhere, she would start blatantly hinting at it until someone was kind enough to say the necessary words. That's how it had always worked in the past, anyway.

Touma realized that her eyes were just a little swollen. Maybe she hadn't slept well?

"Sure, that sounds like a good idea!" Makoto agreed.

"Yeah, we should," Touma said, dismissing her apprehensions for now.

Chiaki looked strangely relieved.

There was a lull in the conversation.

"So, uh," Chiaki began, shifting nervously, not walking back as would ordinarily be expected. "How's the soccer going for you, Touma?"

_She's trying to drive a conversation_, Makoto realized. _How strange. She usually takes these study periods pretty seriously. Why is she here talking with us? And she never makes small talk._

It wasn't her style. Her personality seemed off, lacking her usual pugnaciousness and reserve. It could only be described as suddenly more…normal.

"Well, the season's over," Touma said, responding despite her surprise. "We're not going to do much until after the summer. We're just expected to stay in shape. Personally, I spend a lot of time playing with the boys in my neighborhood. They're not that good, though."

"What about you, Makoto?" Chiaki asked, turning. "You get that cavity fixed?"

They spent the rest of the period chatting.

* * *

"Hey Makoto! We finally found you!" a voice behind him said.

He shook himself out of his trance. He had been with rest of his class at the end-of-the-year ceremony, but had left immediately at the end to grab his forgotten jacket back from their classroom. Chiaki and the others had said they would be waiting here, but there had been no sign of them.

He had been zoning out, leaning on the gym wall, thinking about…

"What is it?" he asked, turning to face his male friends, that group he had become oddly detached from over the past two weeks.

"To celebrate becoming second-years, we're going to go watch a movie, and we're going to the arcade afterward."

He gestured at the other three behind him.

"We talked some girls into going with us, but they want to watch that new Alice movie," he said, making an expression of distaste and then shrugging. "But hey, it's worth it right? You should know. You can even bring that girl you're seeing with us."

Like everyone else, they had gone ahead and made the most reasonable assumption, especially after he had refused to reveal any juicy details to them earlier.

Makoto grimaced.

"I'm sorry guys," he said, rubbing the back of his head. "I know I haven't been around much, but…we have other plans. I'll make it up to you someday."

"Of course," his friend said somberly, rubbing his hands and nodding somberly, making exactly the assumption Makoto had intended him to make. "Have fun."

They looked like they had expected this answer.

They turned and walked away.

"Just who is it anyway?" one of them asked, not bothering to wait until they were out of earshot. "That's what I want to know."

"They do a good job of hiding it, but I hear it's hime," another said, catching onto and cooperating with the plan. "Last thing I'd ever expect, but there it is. Though she's a bit flat."

"That's all you ever think about, you pervert," the first one responded, pointing accusingly with his finger. "And I don't believe it. My money is on the soccer girl. The one he's friends with and stuff? It makes sense. It seems like he'd like girls like that And remember White Day?"

_I hope this conversation is over_, Makoto thought during the brief pause afterward, looking off into the distance and leaning again onto the gym wall. He was trying to look as bored as possible, and doing his best to ignore their intentional tweaking of him.

"Besides," the first one amended, "with that kind of thing, it's not about what they're like now, but how they develop in the future."

"Think about it though," the other argued, brushing away the side topic while making a literal brushing motion with his hand. "Have you ever talked to hime? She's got just as much of that spunk."

"You guys are both wrong," a third one interjected, sticking his head in. "It's that rich girl! The other day, I heard her_—_"

"You're just saying that because you've got a crush," said the first one. "We all know it. You're just sad she turned you down. You still have a chance, you know."

"Shut up!" the third one retorted ineffectually. "If I had a crush, then why..."

Finally, they turned the corner of one of the buildings and their deliberately loud conversation could no longer be heard. The few other students in the area, fortunately, seemed unfamiliar with both who he was and what they had been talking about.

Makoto switched postures, placing his forehead firmly in his hand, not sure whether to laugh hysterically or chase after them and berate them for being perverted towards his friends. Also, that Chiaki hated that nickname.

After a moment, he relaxed, sighing.

_I really am being unfair to them. It's not like they ever hide anything from me._

But it was of course impossible to tell them anything.

_And…_

His face twisted into a crooked smile.

_I probably won't be seeing them that much in the future. I never really liked the arcade anyway._

"Sorry we're late!" Uchida chimed, appearing around the same corner his friends had departed by. The others were right next to her. "You guys' teacher kept trying to talk to us for some reason, but we dodged him. And then—"

"It's no problem," he interrupted, walking up and smiling. "Let's go."

"There's this store having a new school year sale," Chiaki said, again more active than usual, "so I think we should go there."

"Right," Touma said. "And then the arcade."

"Yes, yes, we get it already," Uchida said, waving an annoyed hand. "You want to go. We'll go."

Makoto just nodded agreeably, well cognizant of the irony involved in doing so.

* * *

It was Touma's opinion that she had no need for more clothes, not after her last trip shopping. She now had two complete sets of clothing waiting to be worn, and her wallet, while not empty, was lighter than she wished. She had a purse too, now, but she figured she might as well stay consistent with the rest of her clothing.

Thus, she excused herself at the door of the clothing store, saying she would be in the video game store two stores down. She watched Makoto struggle briefly to decide, before finally deciding to maintain appearances and follow her.

"Why don't you just go with them?" she asked. "You could pretend like they dragged you there."

"Yeah," he said, frowning. "But I wouldn't be able to resist making comments, and that might look weird."

"It's never worried you before," Touma commented, as they walked through the sliding doors of the game store. She kept walking, not needing to look to get her bearings around the surprisingly large store—it dealt in old games too, after all.

"Yeah, but I've never gone shopping with _her_ before," he pointed out.

She thought about that. It was true.

"I guess keeping secrets is hard," she said, glancing at him.

He laughed once, drily.

Touma scanned the aisles while he thought about what to say.

"You were right," he said. "It's not really worth it. You have no idea how paranoid I've gotten."

She stopped in front of a display. He stopped a moment later

"What are we here for, anyway?" he asked.

"Nothing in particular," she said, picking up a copy of a game on sale. "There's nothing coming out that I want, and I don't have anything in mind. Just killing time."

She flipped it over and read the back. Makoto leaned over to read the title.

"You're interested?" he asked, noting her thoughtful expression.

"Well, we do have all the previous games, but from what I've heard, this one is boring and linear."

She thought about the hole in her finances.

The game went back onto the display shelf, only to be immediately grabbed by the hand of someone next to her.

She looked up at one of the few people she knew who was significantly taller than her.

"Natsuki?" she said. "This is a surprise. And here I thought you weren't ever going to leave your room again after finally getting into that beta. You could at least let me have a crack at it!"

"Very funny," he said impassively, placing the game in the basket he was carrying. "You'll get your chance. You weren't playing when the first game came out. You wouldn't understand. And for your information, Hosaka here—"he pointed at the silent man standing behind him—"let me take the day off, since my graduation ceremony is approaching and my class has to prepare and such."

"At the game store? And what, you've taken three days off now this week?"

"We finished early!" Natsuki said.

"Family emergencies take precedence," Hosaka said in his customary deep voice, walking forward next to Natsuki. "And I insisted he attend. He made up for it all by working for free yesterday."

"I see," Touma said, taciturn, trying to place his face. Where had she seen him before?

"I take it you're the sister he keeps talking about," he said, tilting his head slightly. "Love really is an interesting thing."

She boggled at the comment.

"Yes," she responded finally, unsure what else to say. She glanced at Natsuki, who was also looking at Hosaka. She couldn't quite read the look on his face.

"What are you—" she began again, looking back, but Hosaka had already turned away to inspect one of the shelves, apparently not focused on the conversation.

She didn't push it.

_I remember him now! _She realized suddenly, experiencing a breakthrough._ That weirdo chef guy who went all catatonic on us._ _Natsuki's "best friend". And what the hell was he talking about? Did Natsuki say something?_

She still couldn't shake the feeling that he was familiar somehow, for some other reason.

For his part, Makoto was also squinting at his face, as if trying to remember something.

"Since you're here." Natsuki said, clearing his throat. "My graduation is this Sunday. You're attending?"

"Of course?" Touma responded questioningly, wondering why Natsuki was bringing this up.

"So I was thinking," Natsuki continued, looking off into a corner, "that it would be nice if you maybe brought some of your friends, or even their sisters…"

Touma, briefly puzzled by his change of formal register, finally picked up what he was hinting at.

"Damn it, Natsuki," she said, making sure he could see her suppress a snicker. "I'll invite her, okay? Don't worry."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Natsuki responded seemingly blandly, but refusing to make eye contact.

"Got to have more guts than that," Hosaka commented absently, reading a flier he had found somewhere.

"Like you're one to talk," Natsuki shot back, forgetting to feign ignorance.

Sadly, they had no idea they were indirectly referring to the same person.

Touma turned to leave.

"So she's not with you?" Natsuki asked, the somewhat abrasive tone of his voice making it clear that he meant someone different now.

"No, she isn't," Touma said, turning back. "She's two stores down. What's it to you?"

Natsuki held up his hands to indicate his harmlessness.

"I was just—"

"Actually, I'm right here," Chiaki's voice corrected from behind Touma.

She turned to see Chiaki turn into their aisle.

"I'm interested in video games too," she said. "So I thought I should…join you."

Walking up, she lodged herself in front of Touma, partially shielding her from Natsuki. Chiaki and Natsuki glared at each other for a long moment.

"Don't be rude, Natsuki," Hosaka said, turning to grab him and once again looking again in their general direction. "Say some—"

He froze midsentence.

Chiaki glanced up—and also froze.

They raised fingers at each other.

"Y—You're—" Hosaka began.

"Curry fairy!" Chiaki said, only slightly later.

The others glanced back and forth between the two of them.

"Is something—" Touma started to ask.

"Remember that guy we met in the forest?" Chiaki said, not shifting her position one iota, not even moving her head. "The one who led us back, and was taking his shirt off for no reason?"

"That was—" Touma began, eyes wide, turning to look again.

"You mean the guy who—" Makoto began.

He choked off his own words.

_Damn it! Mako-chan went on that trip, not Mako_to_!_

Chiaki didn't catch the anomaly.

Natsuki looked sidelong at Hosaka.

"What are they talking about, Hosaka? That shirt thing definitely sounds like you, but…"

_Minami Haruka's sister and Natsuki's sister! _Hosaka thought. _ I could connect the dots. It's just like Hayami says! I've got to get the knights before I can get the queen. And then—_

His mind began to spin the fantasy.

_The Minami household, sometime in the future._

"_This is my brother's friend," Natsuki's sister was saying. "He's the really nice guy I've been telling you about."_

"_Really?" Haruka asked, looking at him and smiling. "How interesting!"_

"_Actually, I'm here to…" he began._

_He pulled out a giant bouquet of roses from behind his back. She took it with delight._

"_See, what did I tell you?" Natsuki's sister said._

Natsuki slapped him, hard, forcing him awake.

"Damn it, Hosaka. Not now!"

He glanced down. His top shirt button was already undone.

"Come on, Touma," Chiaki said, stepping backwards. "Let's get out of here."

Touma nodded as they began to back away, at first slowly, but then at a near-run.

_It figures that Natsuki would have a friend like this_, Touma thought.

"Wait!" Hosaka said, arm outstretched. "I need to talk to you!"

But they were already gone.

"What the hell, Hosaka?" Natsuki asked, angry, turning towards him. "And what do you want with them?"

"No, nevermind," Hosaka said. "I wasn't thinking straight."

_It's not good enough_, he thought. _The plan has to be perfect! This one is too risky, and seems too…backhanded…_

"Damn it, Hosaka," Natsuki said, rubbing his forehead in frustration at his partially-crazy friend. "You've got to stop doing that."

Hosaka felt like he had missed some sort of important clue.

* * *

By the time they reunited with Yoshino and Uchida, they had shaken off the effects of their strange encounter.

Walking down the sidewalk, Makoto thought about how he well he was starting to blend with this particular group of friends, and did his best not to react to the clothing items and accessories on display in various store windows.

As they approached the arcade, he suddenly realized that Touma was missing.

He turned sharply and prepared to yell her name, overreacting, but found her immediately.

Touma had stopped suddenly to look into the window of one of the shops, pressing her face into window glass to get a better look.

They backtracked to see what she was looking at.

"I didn't know you were interested in trinkets like that," Uchida commented, referring to the set of necklaces she was apparently looking at. She had also pressed her face into the glass. Whoever cleaned the windows would not be happy with them.

"I was just thinking it was a cool design," Touma said, standing back up, suddenly in a hurry.

"Come on, let's go," she urged.

The moment they walked into the dimly-lit arcade, Touma began pushing them in the direction of one of the machines.

"You see this game?" she said, patting the ancient-looking machine on the side. "It's old, and I haven't played this game in years, but Natsuki wasted his childhood playing this thing, especially after they ported it to one of the consoles. He showed me too. Newer isn't necessarily better."

"A fighting game, huh?" Chiaki said, leaning forward and peering at it intently. "Looks familiar."

"You've played it?" Touma asked, mildly surprised.

"Why wouldn't I have?" Chiaki responded, standing back up, insulted. "You know I like fighting games, and Kana used to be really into having every game possible."

"A match then?" Touma said, looking at her with one eye, smiling expectantly.

"Of course," Chiaki said, equally expectant-looking. "Loser coughs up the money for the game."

The other three knew this wasn't their conversation, and watched politely as the pixilated characters grunted and yelled their way around the screen. It wasn't long before Chiaki won round three by the narrowest of margins.

"I have no idea how Chiaki is this good," Yoshino whispered to Uchida and Makoto after Chiaki had exclaimed in celebration.

"Rematch!" Touma demanded manically, holding up a 50-yen piece.

"You sure you have the money for this?" Chiaki taunted, flipping her hair with her off-hand.

They watched another round, this time witnessing Chiaki lose round three to an extended combo.

"I'm not going to let this go!" Chiaki said, holding up her own 50-yen piece. Her expression was also feverishly manic, now.

_Perhaps I should start playing these games more…_ Makoto mused.

By the third rematch, the rest of them started to feel vaguely restless.

"Do you mind if we go somewhere else?" Yoshino asked, midway through the second round.

"No," Touma said, barely managing to process what had been said.

"Not at all," Chiaki said, automatically agreeing with Touma without having even heard what had been asked.

It didn't take them long to find something to do, not after Uchida bolted straight for the first claw crane machine they saw.

She pressed her face into the glass, staring at the prizes on the other side, before backing off a step and reading the front of the machine. She then gasped.

"So that's what that's for!" she exclaimed.

"What is what for?" Makoto asked, walking up and observing the stuffed animals inside the machine.

"The metal balls! Apparently if you manage to grab one, you can ask at the counter for a giant version of anything you want!"

"It looks pretty impossible," Makoto commented, reading the sign and wearing an appropriately skeptical expression. "It's probably not worth trying."

"I'm going for it," Uchida said, pulling out her coin purse and completely ignoring him. She wore a stubborn expression.

"What do you want?" Yoshino asked, already knowing the answer. "Another horse?"

"Yup!" Uchida exclaimed, dropping a coin into the slot.

"You already have at least three of those. I'm just saying," Yoshino pointed out.

"You can never have too many," Uchida argued absent-mindedly, frowning in concentration, joystick in hand.

She exhaled in frustration as the claw slipped off of one of the metal spheres.

"See what you made me do!" she complained.

They watched as she failed, over and over, getting more and more frustrated, the repeated thud of falling iron becoming almost monotonous.

Just as Makoto was getting seriously worried that Uchida might explode, Yoshino stepped forward and grabbed Uchida's hand, rather forcefully.

"Let me try it, okay?" she said, smiling sweetly, voice as soothing as she could make it.

Uchida looked at her, took a deep breath, and closing her eyes, stepped back.

Yoshino deftly maneuvered the joystick, pushed the button, and picked up the metal ball, dropping it down the chute in one try.

Makoto just stared, stunned, as she reached into the slot and pulled out the heavy looking piece of iron.

"That—that's amazing," he managed to stammer, partly to pick his jaw back up from the floor.

"Nah, I got lucky," Yoshino, handing the sphere to an awe-struck Uchida. "And she sort of set it up by shifting the stuff around it."

"That was amazing!" Uchida exclaimed gleefully, wrapping her arms around Yoshino's chest in a firm embrace. "You're amazing! Have I ever told you that?"

"Yes," Yoshino said, voice strained. "Now let me go so we can collect your horse. You're suffocating me."

Uchida's displayed an irrepressible thousand-watt grin as they walked away from the counter, carrying the bulky stuffed animal in her arms.

"Aren't you at all bothered by the fact that that thing cost you 1500 yen?" Makoto asked, after he realized just how long they had been there.

"Nope!" she responded, shaking her head, pigtails swinging.

He thought for a moment, hesitating.

"Just where do you get all of this money to burn?" he asked, finally.

"What a rude question!" Uchida instantly protested, turning away, looking faux-peeved.

She went right back to grinning and chuckling to herself. He wondered…

"We should go see if they're done yet," Yoshino said. "It's getting kind of late."

Turning in the proper direction with an instinctive sense of direction, Yoshino took only one step forward before stopping.

"Is something wrong?" Makoto asked, stopping just short of running into her back.

"Those guys over there," Yoshino said, pointing. "The ones trying to wave at you. Your friends, right? You should probably say something to them."

Makoto looked where she was pointing and yes, there they were.

_Goddamn it. Same arcade?_

He waved back, sheepishly.

"Let's just keep walking," he told Yoshino. "Trust me, it's what they expect."

"Why?" she asked, looking at him, then at his friends, genuinely puzzled.

"Just keep walking," he insisted, leading the way, managing just in time to stop himself from grabbing her arm and pulling her along.

Chiaki and Touma weren't done, of course. The three of them stood behind them, waiting politely until they finished yet another game.

"So what's the score?" Yoshino asked, sidling up to Touma after she won the game.

"We're tied now," Touma said. "Just let us have one more game to decide this!"

"It's almost dinnertime," Makoto said, showing up on the other side of the machine, next to an equally adamant-looking Chiaki. "Maybe you guys should calm down."

"How can I possibly calm down?" Chiaki yelled.

Even Touma looked startled by that.

After a long awkward moment, Chiaki released the joystick, relaxing, hair settling down her back.

"I—I guess we _are_ getting a little carried away," she said, embarrassed. "Let's go."

Touma looked down, suddenly looking ashamed.

"Yeah, let's go," she said.

They turned away from the machine.

"Look what Yoshino won me!" Uchida said, partly to defuse the atmosphere, and partly because she really wanted to show them the newest item in her collection.

"Another one?" Touma asked automatically, her expression completely neutral.

Nonetheless, Uchida caught the conveyed disapproval, and made an aggrieved expression. Yoshino shrugged good-naturedly.

"Nothing wrong with more of these," Yoshino said, smiling.

As they strode out into the gathering twilight, Touma edged in Makoto's direction, finally looking at him with one eye to catch his attention. He dropped his pace, allowing them to lag behind the other three, just enough for privacy.

"I've never seen her get that into it," Touma said, just barely loud enough for him to hear. "I don't think it's normal. I should have stopped."

She let a bit of sadness show in her eyes.

They caught back up.

* * *

They had long ago phoned home on Yoshino's cell phone to excuse themselves from dinner. Eschewing formality, they opted to visit a cheap ramen shop before buying ice cream from a convenience store. It really wasn't that hot, but who cared?

Finally, on Uchida's insistence, they walked to the local park to grab takoyaki from one of the street vendors, instead of from one of the shops. It turned out that the vendor was a friend of Uchida's parents who regularly gave her extra food. To her credit, she at least acted out the proper ritualistic refusal and apologetic acceptance.

Once they were out of visual range, however, her true feelings shone through as she tore through her set of food with a vengeance.

"At least pretend to show some compunction," Touma criticized, stabbing at one of her own octopus balls with her toothpick.

They had crowded themselves onto one of the benches. All in all, it was pretty picturesque, Touma thought. Sitting under one of the still-blooming sakura trees, on a bench on the cobblestone path, only a few other people still around…

"You mean show some restraint!" Yoshino added, turning towards Uchida. "You sure it's safe? Didn't you tell me you gained five pounds recently?"

She grabbed the skin of Uchida's arm, as if testing for fat.

Uchida pulled her arm away, holding on tightly to her tray of takoyaki.

"Stop trying to put me on a diet! And don't just tell everyone! I'm still growing and stuff…"

She speared an octopus ball and stuck it in her mouth, in a gesture of defiance.

* * *

Yoshino and Uchida were the first to leave, excusing themselves and leaving as a unit.

They waved goodbye to them, watching them walk off into the night. They really had stayed out too long.

"Sometimes I wonder about them," Touma commented when they disappeared from view, saying as much as she dared.

"They're really close," Chiaki commented. "I mean, _really_ close."

"Yes," Makoto said, simply, keeping his thoughts to himself.

They left it at that.

After a couple of minutes sitting under the streetlight, Touma got up and stretched.

"It's probably time we all went home too," she said.

"Yeah, I guess," Makoto agreed, getting up.

"It must be chilly in that skirt," he said to Chiaki, speaking from personal experience. "I sort of want to use this jacket on myself, but…"

He stopped, his hand still out in the act of offering his jacket. Her body language disturbed him. She seemed…so tired all of a sudden, as if she had suddenly collapsed.

She pushed his hand aside.

"It's okay," she said, getting up shakily.

"I should go home," she said, shoulders slumped.

She walked away, slowly, as they watched.

The realization crept up to him.

_I can't let her go home_. _I have to say something._

Next to him, Touma sucked in a breath, loudly.

"Or actually, it's a beautiful night," she said, her voice strained and rushed. "We could stick around, lie on the grass and watch the stars or something like that. Don't you agree, Makoto?"

"Yes!" he concurred immediately. "The park doesn't close or anything, and this is a pretty safe neighborhood, so we can stay as long as we want."

Chiaki stopped. They held their breaths.

After a long moment, she turned her head and looked back. For just a moment, her eyes looked so fragile—

"That'd be nice," she said, voice airy.

As intended, they found an empty patch of grass, perched on the slightest of inclines.

To be honest, there wasn't much to see in the sky. The light of the city obscured everything. But some stars shone through nonetheless.

They lay and stared, minds elsewhere.

"Do you know how to find the pole star?" Chiaki asked quietly.

They looked at her, one turning left, the other right.

"Not really," Makoto conceded.

"You find this bear constellation, right?" Touma said. "Except I have no idea what that looks like…"

Chiaki smiled slightly and pointed upward.

"It's that one. I could find it in my sleep."

They looked, staying silent.

"Polaris," Chiaki began, inhaling slightly and assuming a didactic tone, "is assumed by most people to be a single star, but it is not. If we had a telescope with us, we could easily see two stars, Polaris A and B, orbiting each other. This was noticed very early."

They nodded, still looking up, wondering why she was suddenly lecturing them about astronomy.

"But Polaris is not a binary star system," she said. "It was eventually suspected, based on careful study, that one of the stars has a small companion star. This was eventually confirmed, and the third star was named Polaris Ab. Polaris is a ternary star system."

She dropped her arm, and was silent.

Makoto turned to look at her face, trying to peer through the darkness—and saw a single tear trickling its way out of her eye.

He immediately sat up.

"Chiaki! What's wrong?"

After a moment of silence, she, too, sat up, slowly.

They watched her uncertainly as she brought her legs up and hugged her knees, staring forward into the middle distance. She started breathing heavily.

"I'm fine. There's nothing wrong."

"It's not nothing!" Makoto said instantly, having anticipated this response. "Don't say that! This isn't nothing!"

"Say something for once, Chiaki!" Touma said. "It's obvious you're unhappy! Why won't you say anything?"

"It's nothing!" she insisted, shaking her head, clenching her teeth, gripping her legs more tightly. "There's. Nothing. Wrong."

She clasped her hands to her head, as if she had a massive headache. Did they dare push this farther?

Makoto swallowed.

"Bullshit," Touma said.

"Do you know how much it hurts us to see you like this?" Makoto said, simultaneously. "Please! Let us do something! Anything!"

"It's nothing!" she insisted, voice tearing. "It's nothing! There's never been anything wrong! Not a thing! That was the worst part!"

They stared, briefly stymied, as the tears started to flow.

"It's always been me," she said. "I tried to be strong, like you two, but I couldn't do it. Even though it was so, so stupid! Do you want to know what it was? What it _is_?"

She looked around her rapidly, as if demanding an answer. They could only nod lamely.

"I don't know why," she said, tearing at the grass with her hand. "I don't know why! I can't stand being left alone. I can't stand it! Every time you ignore me, every time you leave, it hurts. I'm always afraid. I've always been afraid."

She hid her face in between her legs.

"Look at that," she said bitterly. "I can't even explain it properly."

She sobbed quietly.

"Afraid of what, Chiaki?" Touma asked, gently.

Chiaki breathed deeply, several times, stabilizing herself.

"I've always been afraid," she said, shakily, "that one day I'll wake up and they'll be no one there. Not Kana, not Haruka, not you two, not anyone."

The briefest of pauses.

"It's stupid, I know," she said. "That gets me too. It makes no sense! I've tried everything I can think of to ignore it, pretend I don't feel it, but it still burns. Every hint of dislike, every sign of being ignored, and it comes back."

She finally lifted her face up again, tears barely dry. She clenched her fist to her chest.

"It hurts. I hide it, but it hurts so goddamn much. It's like the whole world is abandoning me. I'm so goddamn _lonely_."

They looked at her, speechless.

"You probably think I'm crazy," she said.

She didn't let them say anything.

"I used to have an answer," she said, miserable. "Do you know that? When I was a kid, I _invented_ a friend, an imaginary friend, who was always there. And it felt pretty good."

She looked down.

"I know what you're thinking," she said. "All sorts of kids have imaginary friends. It's perfectly normal. But it wasn't. I became obsessed. I stopped talking to anyone else. We—or rather, _I_, would just go off, out among the farms and trees, for hours and hours. It was…so real…"

Her voice trailed off, as she remembered.

"But of course, that couldn't last. It didn't matter how good a friend she was, how much we talked about stars or how much we rode our bikes together, I always knew in my heart she wasn't real. And there's so much you can obsess about something like that before others start to notice."

She looked into the middle distance.

"Kana, of course, was the first to see it. The first to notice me talking to walls, the first one to suspect all those games I played by myself really _weren't_ by myself. I tried hiding it, I tried only talking when no one was around, but it was useless. It ended, not surprisingly."

She smiled a disturbing, crooked smiling.

"I'd show you the scar, but it's in a rather inappropriate place. One night, my 'friend' suggested we climb one of the trees in the area so we could see the stars from a different angle. No big deal, we climbed trees all the time, except this time Kana followed us. She yelled at me to come down. She thought I was seriously sick, you see. Not a bad assumption at all. I yelled back that I was never coming down. She started trying to climb up after me."

They listened, eyes wide, ensnared by the insane story she was telling.

"Kana is actually pretty smart," Chiaki said. "It took me a long time a realize that. But that once, she really was the baka-yaro I always call her. What was she going to do? Wrestle with me up there? I tried to move, and of course I slipped, and of course I fell, straight into my bicycle. You can almost see it coming."

The night air chilled her.

She looked up at the trees around them, letting the memory replay itself in her mind, the same way it had in her dream that morning.

_She propped herself up on her arms—or tried to, but her left arm gave way, immensely painfully. She gasped—and her chest erupted in unbearable pain._

_Somehow she stayed conscious enough to look down, and see where the sharp edge of the gear assembly of her bicycle had tore into her chest, and to also see the blood staining the ground underneath._

_Kana's voice above her, as the world faded._

"_Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shi—"_

"It wasn't that bad," she narrated, contradicting her own remembrance. "I was hospitalized, of course, but it was just a broken arm and a superficial gash to my chest. Probably also a concussion."

She stopped, having briefly lost the will to keep talking.

"Is that what your dreams were about?" Touma asked, finally thinking of something to say. "Why the hell didn't you _tell_ us? Why do you—"

"And have you think I'm insane?" Chiaki demanded. "And no, it's not even that! I didn't _know_. I couldn't _recall_."

"What?" Touma asked after a moment, confused.

"The first thing I did after I woke back up in the hospital was to pretend I didn't remember a thing of what happened, or why," Chiaki said. "I pretended I had no idea what Kana was talking about. I'm pretty good at hiding things. Eventually they believed me. Eventually…I believed myself."

"I had bad dreams for months, all the way until after we moved, but eventually I convinced myself everything I remembered was just a bad dream. I was just barely young enough to pull that off. It helped when Kana and Haruka started pretending nothing had ever happened."

"One of the reasons we had for moving here was to leave everything behind," she concluded. "That's what I did. I erased an entire year of my life and replaced it with the few happy memories I had left. I left everything behind, just as my sisters intended. Except the reason for it all."

"But if you forgot—" Makoto began.

"Then why remember now, right?" Chiaki asked, smiling a sickly smile. "Let me finish first."

"There was another game I played, up until recently. And by then I was far too old to have any excuses. I pretended I had a different kind of family. I imagined that Haruka was the mother, Fujioka was the father, and Kana was one of my sisters. But still, that didn't satisfy me. I needed someone else. You were perfect, Touma."

"Me?" Touma asked automatically.

"Yes," Chiaki said. "I made you my little brother, remember? And I made Mako-chan another one of my sisters."

Makoto stiffened at the mention of his alter-ego.

"I didn't realize it at the time," she continued, still talking to Touma, "but you had one essential quality which made me latch onto you. You resemble the imaginary friend I had. I've always wondered why I liked you so much the moment I saw you. Now I know."

Touma stiffened.

"To think it was a reason like that…" she said.

Chiaki sighed.

"I—"

She stopped and her expression settled in one of profound guilt.

"I've been incredibly selfish," she said. "I gave no thought to anything but trying to make myself happy."

"I wanted your attention. I cultivated it. I led you both on. I let you chase me, I tempted you, and I pretended not to notice Makoto trying to sneak into the house. And I lied to myself the whole time, telling myself it was because I hated idiots, or I was trying something or whatever excuse I could come up with to hide what I was doing. And it still wasn't enough."

"When you two finally confessed, as I knew was inevitable, it tore me apart," she said. "I couldn't choose. I just _couldn't_. If both of you hadn't been enough before, how could one be enough now? So I dithered."

They waited for her to continue, but she stayed silent.

She surprised them by standing up, walking to the edge of the minor ridge and looking at the pond beneath.

"I love you two," she said. "I knew that the moment you confessed. But I didn't dare disturb the balance, because of my own problems. Because I'm not sure if I'm insane, and I didn't want to fall apart. Everything I did was for me. Not for you. _Me_. I tore your lives apart. I deserve what I get."

Makoto and Touma, by now standing behind her, shared a distressed look.

"You're not insane—" Touma said.

"The funny part is," Chiaki said. "I think it was starting to work. During that one week where nothing happened, I was starting to feel better. I was starting to feel secure. For the first time I could remember, the loneliness was receding. I think that's why the dreams came back. Why I remembered again."

She grabbed a strand of her hand and twisted them in between her fingers, over and over.

"But I still had to choose. And then, there's…"

She bent down, picked up a pebble, and hurled it across the pond with an absurd amount of force, revealing the emotion that she would not let enter her voice. Again, she started breathing heavily.

"I think I knew," Chiaki said, still not looking at them. "Even before Yoshino reminded me. You've realized too, haven't you? You two are in love, and it's so much more pure, so much less stained than anything I have. All I've been doing is standing in the way. I know that. I only wanted one more day."

She sucked in a breath.

"That day is over. Enough of this. I can't continue acting like this, not now that I know what kind of monster I am. Enough selfishness. Leave me. You have my blessing. I will survive. Despite the pain."

"Forget about me," she said quietly.

The moment stretched into infinity.

Touma and Makoto shared one more look. They looked in each other's eyes, and the decision in all four was crystal-clear.

"We refuse," Touma said.

"We love you," Makoto said. "Didn't we tell you that?"

Chiaki turned her head, and they could finally see the depths of her eyes.

"It's not worth it," she said, confused. "_I'm_ not worth it. Don't you understand?"

"If you were being selfish, why did you show up that time with Fujioka?" Touma asked. "Why come for me when I was at Yoshino's?"

"Love is not about purity or pure motives," Touma continued. "It's about being there no matter the situation, no matter the cost, no matter why. You're willing to sacrifice everything, both of us, because you think we'll be happier without you. It doesn't matter if you're wrong; you were willing to do that. And if you can do that, than how could we _let _you do that?"

"You're not insane," Makoto said, grabbing her shoulder. "And you're not weak. We are not 'stable' because we stand alone. We're stable because we confide in each other. I rely on Touma, and you. Touma relies on me, Fujioka, you, Haruka, Kana, her brothers, Uchida _and_ Yoshino. Neither of us has spent our entire lives burying everything. You don't want to be left alone; then just let it out. The two of us will carry you through. Let someone else support you."

He looked into Chiaki's eyes, those eternally sleepy eyes, and so did Touma. Those eyes finally broke.

They watched her cry the tears of a lifetime.

* * *

"Give it up, Touma," Makoto said. "They're clearly not open."

"This is a travesty!" she protested, pulling fruitlessly at the shop door. "The sign here clearly indicates they are open until nine-thirty!"

"It's ten, Touma," he said, surprised by her intensity. "We can come back tomorrow."

"How do you even know that?" she asked.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a watch, shrugging.

At his side, unnoticed, Chiaki stared intently at it for a moment.

"Why do you keep a watch if you're just going to put it in your pocket, idiot?" Chiaki asked finally.

They looked at her. It was the first thing she had said after they had finally left the park. Normality?

"Glad to see you're back," Touma said, looking over at the worried-looking Makoto.

Among other things, Makoto was still chewing over her use of the "_baka"_ phrase, which, now that he thought about it, he had never before heard without the accompanying "_yaro_".

"It's good to be back," she said.

The accompanying smile warmed their hearts.

"Also, I'm cold," she said. "Could I take you up on that jacket offer?"

"Ah, yes," Makoto said, hastily shedding said object of clothing. "You're the only one here in a skirt, after all."

"Oh well," Touma sighed, looking up at the storefront. "I guess we'll just come back tomorrow. I wonder if there's any food places open at a time like this."

"You're hungry?" Makoto asked.

"It's not as if ice cream, ramen, and takoyaki form a substantial meal."

The door behind her suddenly opened.

"What do you kids want?" the old man who appeared in the doorway asked. "Can't you see we're closed?"

"That's right, Touma," Makoto agreed, looking at her sidelong. "Can you tell us now why you wanted so badly to be here?"

"Those necklaces in your shop window," Touma said, ignoring Makoto. "How much are they?"

The man looked at her as if she were crazy.

"You practically break down my door for this?" he asked.

She just looked back at him.

"Well, customers are customers I guess," he conceded. "It's not like they're valuable or anything, so 2000 yen."

"We want three," Touma said.

They just looked at her.

"What?" she asked.

"I'm not sure if you've realized," Makoto said reprovingly, "but we just spent the entire day burning money at the arcade and buying food and stuff. Do we have that much money?"

"I told you before, Touma," Chiaki said. "Natsuki dumps money on you like there's no tomorrow. Try to remember that. And aren't you the one who's always being stingy?"

Touma looked nonplussed.

"Er, well, how much do we have?" she asked.

They huddled in a circle to count.

"6400." Touma said, ignoring the various low denomination coins they held. "It's enough!"

"That's no good, Touma," Chiaki said. "We still have to take the bus home. We are going home, right? We won't have enough for that if we buy these."

Left unspoken was the obvious question: Why did Touma want to buy necklaces, anyway?

The man looked them over.

"Eh," he said, shrugging. "You can have the whole lot for 4500."

"Really?" Touma asked, looking as if she would hug the man.

"I was young too, once," he said, smiling. "Now let me go get them."

A while later, he returned with the objects in tow, handing them to an obviously happy Touma.

"Thank you so much!" she said.

"I was overcharging you anyway," he said.

They looked at him as if he had just informed them for the first time that Santa wasn't real.

"For pounding down my door after closing hours!" he explained, incredulously.

The moment he closed the door behind him, Chiaki turned on Touma.

"Now explain to me why we just spent most of our money on these trinkets, Touma!"

Touma looked faintly embarrassed.

"Well," she said. "I was thinking back to what you were saying, about the North Pole and stuff…"

She grabbed one of the necklaces in her other hand, letting it hang out.

"And I was thinking," she continued, color creeping up her cheeks, "that we should get something to wear, but it's not like we're going to get something actually modeled after the Polaris star system. Then I remembered that I saw these earlier."

She thrust the other two out in her unfurled hand, blushing strongly.

"They're three-pointed stars, so you know, the symbolism all works out. I would have preferred it be symmetrical like uh—a triangle, no, not a triangle…"

By this point, the other two were clearly working hard to suppress a laugh both at Touma's level of discomfort and at her seriously earnest expression.

"Like the Mercedes logo," Makoto said.

"Yes! Like the Mercedes logo! But I think these look better anyway, since the way they point down is kind of nice. They're not really stars, though…anyway, the point is, we could all wear them, to, you know, symbolize our, uh, friendship and stuff!"

Her tongue tripped over the word friendship.

They stared at each other.

It was Chiaki who burst out laughing first, followed almost immediately by Makoto. It was just too much. It was not that it was really that funny. They just needed to laugh at something.

"Stop laughing!" Touma demanded. "I thought you understood! I thought we were—"

She stopped, realizing what she was about to say.

A moment later, she started laughing too. She needed it just as much.

Finally, excruciatingly, they managed to sober up.

"Chiaki," Touma said, having wiped her face with her sleeve. "I was also thinking that, I hope you can finally get over that thing of yours. This can be a first step for that. Just a little trinket, to remind you that we're here. Something like that. We can get it in real jade later, when we have more money."

Chiaki took one, gingerly, and held it up to her neck.

"Nah," she said, after a moment. "I'd rather keep this one."

She gripped it in her fist.

"Thank you. I'll treasure it."

They stayed silent for a moment.

Finally, Makoto reached forward to grab the last one, and they put them on.

"I might have to get a new strap for this," Touma said, tugging at it.

"I wonder if people at school will notice," Makoto said.

"So what if they do?" Chiaki said.

After a moment of silence, Makoto started laughing, quietly.

"What is it?" Touma asked.

"Nothing," he said, covering his mouth. "Let's go home."

She looked at him strangely.

They started to walk off.

It was only a short while later, as they approached the relevant bus stop, that Touma began to feel a strange, yet familiar, sensation of _absence_. This time it took her only moments to place its source.

She did an instant about-face, remembering well what had happened last time. Chiaki, catching the motion out of the corner of her eye, stopped walking and began to turn.

Fortunately, Makoto hadn't gotten lost or kidnapped. Instead, he had simply stopped unaccountably, half a block back.

Touma sucked in a breath and ran, covering the distance between them in lunging steps.

"What's wrong?" she asked, bending over slightly to look at his face.

"Touma," he said, face painted with a grim determination. "I don't think I should leave it like this. She can't make this kind of decision without knowing the truth."

Touma took a second to understand the sentence.

"You can't!" Touma insisted, shaking her head. "Not so soon—"

He looked up, silencing her with a look.

"I think she'll be fine," he said, letting her read his face. "Better now than later."

"I hope you're right," she said, finally.

"Again, you talk about me behind my back," the girl in question said, having completed the walk back. "I thought I knew everything already, so I never called you on it. But apparently not."

Touma straightened out, watching her.

"I can do this instead, if you want," Touma said, turning to look at Makoto.

"You know I couldn't accept that," he said.

"Out with it!" Chiaki demanded.

"I—" he began.

He swallowed, as Chiaki crossed his arms.

"I don't have the clothes," he said, to no one in particular. "But I can do plenty without them. It's much easier to demonstrate than to explain."

That was something he had realized after the incident with Yoshino.

He looked around, but, fortunately, the street was deserted.

Makoto dug the watch out of his pocket and put it on with almost a strange calm. Touma realized that it was one that Mako-chan commonly wore, and that it had been a mistake on his part to pull it out earlier.

From another pocket he retrieved a colorful bead bracelet and placed it on his other arm.

From a back pocket, a comb, with which he calmly smoothed and rearranged his hair.

_Why does he even have this stuff with him? _Touma resisted asking.

From the same pocket, a single hairclip, purple this time.

Chiaki's initial raised eyebrow expression had slowly morphed into one of utter incredulity.

"Do you see?" he asked, his timid voice belying his seeming calm. "Makoto has always been right next to you. And so has Mako-chan."

She took a single step backward, reeling from pure shock, her face a study in horror.

"Chiaki—" Touma began, extending her arm, ready to dash forward, just in case.

"It makes sense," Chiaki said, head in her hand. "It makes so much _sense_. Why didn't I realize?"

They watched as she stood still for a second.

"Why?" she demanded, grabbing him by the shoulders. "Why the HELL would you do something like this?"

Her voice resounded off the buildings, and a man across the street looked up in surprise, but now wasn't the time to be worrying about that.

"I—I needed to sneak in," he stammered. "And Ka—Kana suggested—"

_Why even bring her up? _He thought reprovingly, biting his tongue.

"Of course it was Kana," she said, turning away and balling her hand into a fist. "And of course that was why. Like I said, it all _makes sense_."

Again, she was silent, doing her best to think.

"Do you like it, then?" she asked, voice dangerous. "Did you enjoy the deception?"

He watched the flow of hair on her back.

"I—well, not the deception, _per se_, but the rest, I—"

"Of course you did," she said, turning back around. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

He looked in wonderment at her face, which had seemingly abolished all traces of dismay.

"You're—you're not—" he began.

"I was worried when Mako-chan stopped coming," she said. "I've always liked her—as a person. In retrospect, the evidence was everywhere. This…this wouldn't be so bad."

"I sensed the same thing about you Kana did," she continued, smiling in lieu of a suppressed chuckle, "though I doubt I would have ever talked you into doing something like this. I have weird tastes. Think about it; none of this makes sense otherwise. I mean, look at the three of us!"

It was Touma who first responded.

"I'm glad," she said, face satisfied, eyes closed. "We thought it would be much worse than this. I guess it was for the best. You two…"

They looked at her, but she all she said was:

"No, nevermind," she said, smiling slightly. "Later."

Makoto tilted his head slightly to look around Chiaki.

"Isn't that the bus stopping there?" he asked, unsure about the wisdom of changing topics.

Touma snapped open her eyes and peered.

"It is!" she said, instantly breaking into a sprint towards the bus stop. "Hey! HEY!"

They missed it.

* * *

_I don't even want to know what time it is now._

She took a deep breath

She opened the door and walked in briskly, already starting the process of taking off her shoes.

"Chiaki!" Haruka said, walking into the hallway from where she had obviously been waiting, crossing her arms. "Where the hell were you? Have you any idea what time it is? What were you guys doing?"

Chiaki looked down at her feet.

"I was—"

She thought about what to say.

"I was having fun," she said, looking up at Haruka. "Aren't I old enough to stay out now? It's Friday, after all, and I don't even have school next week."

Haruka's eyebrow twitched.

"Fun, eh? Well, you're right: it's Friday. Just give me advance warning next time! It doesn't help talking to on the phone Yoshino when she isn't with you and doesn't know where you are!"

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, looking to her side.

Haruka held a stern expression, hiding her thoughts.

_"I remember_," _Chiaki had said, that morning, out of the blue sky, about to walk out the door for school._ "_I remember everything."_

_Haruka had stared at her, apprehensive. There was no reason to suppose she meant anything unusual by that, but her expression, and the tone of her voice…_

_"Remember what?" Haruka had asked, smiling brittlely. Next to her, Kana had frozen halfway in the act of putting on her shoes._

_"I'll settle it today," Chiaki had said, looking down. "You won't have to worry anymore."_

Her forlorn expression had stayed with Haruka the whole day.

_Should I ask?_

Haruka looked at her carefully.

_That's Makoto's jacket,_ she thought. _And her eyes are red…_

Haruka suppressed a wave of emotion.

She unfurled her arms, softening her expression.

"You are old enough now, yes. But, Chiaki, I'm worried—"

"How'd it go, Chiaki?" Kana asked, sticking her head around the corner of the living room into the hallway.

"I don't know—" she automatically began.

—_what you're talking about_, she almost finished.

_No,_ she thought.

She took another deep breath.

"It went well," she said, smiling slightly. "There are no more decisions to make. We have…decided that there need not be any decisions."

She dodged their looks, unable to hide the blush that automatically covered her face. She gripped her necklace in one hand.

"What the heck does that mean?" Kana asked. "And what's with the necklace?"

"It's symbolic!" she explained, moving forward and pushing Kana out of the way.

"Symbolic for what?" Kana asked.

"After I take a shower!" Chiaki said, fleeing to her room. "I'm—"

—_not used to being open about things._

"Ah, shut up already, nee-chan!" she said instead.

Haruka and Kana were left blinking in her wake.

"Did she just call me what I think she did?" Kana asked disbelievingly, pointing in the direction she had left in with her thumb.

"She's acting strange," Haruka commented.

"But she seemed happy," Kana said.

Haruka felt a twinge of…sadness, perhaps?

_Maybe…_ she thought.

"That's good," Haruka said, a little more subdued than she should have been.

Kana looked at her, then away again.

"I hope she's happy," Kana said, just as Chiaki strode out into the hallway, wearing a towel, carrying her pajamas. She glanced in their direction, then went into the bathroom.

"Tomorrow…" Haruka began. Kana looked at her expectantly.

"Tomorrow we're getting her a cell phone," Haruka said. "We need to keep tabs on her."

* * *

They waited politely as Chiaki sat down slowly at the table, pajamas wrinkling, their eyes watching her. True to convention, tea was waiting on the table.

She had taken the time in the shower to think about what to say. She had concluded there was really only one way. They looked at her expectantly. It was up to her to begin.

"I—" she began, her voice instantly failing her. False start. She shifted her head so that her hair fell over her eyes, so she wouldn't have to look.

"There's no better way to explain it other than to say it as straightforwardly as possible," she began again, doing her best not to let her voice waver, diving straight into it. "It turns out while I was making my decision, Touma and Makoto discovered they had feelings for each other, in addition to what they had for me. I—I told them I was okay with that, but they refused to leave me. We've decided to just stay as we are, as a…group of three. I—I don't know what this is now, but it seems fine, for now. We can continue like this. I think I want it to continue like this. I—"

She could feel the unavoidable blush, she had to fight the embarrassment—

"I haven't been this happy in a long, long time. I hope you understand. It's a bit unusual, but for now, we, we're okay with…"

She dared a look up, and saw their faces transition from attentiveness to slack-jawed amazement as they processed the words.

She looked away.

While Kana got over her surprise and chewed it over, Haruka's initially thunderstruck expression shifted into a strange, distant look.

The clock ticked quietly in the background.

"You sure about this?" Kana asked, when it became clear that Haruka wasn't going to say anything. "You sure about _them_? I definitely wasn't thinking along those lines, but it makes sense. I feel like I lost somehow…"

Chiaki's hand, on the table, twitched with the urge to reach for the necklace. She ignored it.

Next to it her tea sat, untouched.

"Why wouldn't I be sure?" she tried to say as levelly as possible, eyes looking down at the kotatsu. "There's no uncertainty. I know it to be true. But it's as I say. This—they won't leave me. Not immediately. I'm sure of it. I'm not sure which side is most important."

Kana tilted her head, leaning way forward over the low table so she could look directly into Chiaki's face. Her unbound hair settled on the table, barely missing falling into her tea.

"It's unusual, to say the least," she said after a moment. "You sure it's possible to do something like this without jealousy and such?"

_Leave it to Kana to focus immediately on that aspect of it,_ Chiaki thought.

"Maybe it's not," Chiaki said, working through the logic in her mind even as she spoke. "But I think the worst that can happen is one of us discovers that he or she doesn't fit and then…things would be more normal, I guess."

"Would you be okay if it were you that didn't fit?" Haruka asked, quietly, finally.

Chiaki looked up in surprise—and saw Haruka looking back.

"Well?" Haruka insisted.

Chiaki looked down again, hiding from her eyes, clutching her hands together to control their movement. She breathed in, deeply.

"I…I think I would. Things have changed. I have a lot of support."

Again, the quiet ticking of the clock drummed itself into her mind.

"I'm glad," Haruka said.

Again, they looked at her in surprised.

"You've grown up, just a little," she said, eyes hooded, holding her cup in both hands. "This isn't ideal; not at all. But what else could I expect, when I was the only one available to raise you? I haven't done a great job, but at least you're making your own decisions. At least it probably wouldn't destroy you. I wouldn't have to save you. Maybe that's enough."

They stared at her.

"Haruka," Kana began, swallowing. "Don't say that. This—"

"This is a bit too much," Haruka said, pausing for effect. "In my opinion. I don't see how this could possibly work. But I won't interfere. My interference could only make things worse. I'll trust your judgment and…maturity. Perhaps it's time for that."

Chiaki glanced at Kana, who then looked back. After a moment, Kana shook her head.

She began to open her mouth to say something—but Haruka was already getting up.

"We should sleep," she said, simply, pausing at the door.

For a moment, they stared at the empty doorway.

Eventually, Kana cleared her throat. Chiaki looked at her.

"So," Kana said, seemingly serious. "What do you three have planned anyway? Just going to be really close friends?"

Chiaki inspected her fingernails.

"Something like that," she said, trying to be casual.

"Hmm," Kana said, mouth forming the beginning traces of a smile. "I wouldn't know about that."

Chiaki glanced at her out of one eye.

"Well, not quite that," she said. "But how else could I put it? That's the only way to describe it."

"True enough," Kana said. "I guess we'll see. You three are so strange."

Kana interlaced her fingers in front of her, then said, body language deliberately awkward:

"There's also, you know…"

Her voice trailed off as she waited for Chiaki to catch the significance of her not finishing the sentence. She didn't.

Kana couldn't suppress a smirk. She leaned back, stretching.

"Man, I wonder how many boys would literally kill to be in Makoto's position, despite the costs," she commented. "You do know about the costs?"

Chiaki watched her, still not sure what she was talking about, but she had an idea about the second part…

"You knew about Mako-chan the whole time, you bastard," she accused.

Kana sat back up.

"Of course I did," she said. "And I figured you might, too, now."

She dismissed whatever Chiaki was about to say with a vigorous wave of her hand.

"Let's not talk about that right now," she said. "Haruka wasn't referring to this when she was talking about judgment, but judgment is indeed important, whatever those hypothetical murderous boys may think. Do you have any idea what I'm talking about?"

Chiaki looked back at her, with a face now aggravated by what she saw as Kana's deliberate obfuscation.

"No," she said, emphasizing the word. "I have _no_ idea what you're talking about. And I don't think I care, you damn baka-yaro!"

Kana looked back at Chiaki's angry face and couldn't choke a laugh that came bubbling out of her windpipe.

She covered her mouth a second too late.

"You're just like Fujioka," she said, standing up with a reckless smile. "Touma is going to have a devil of a time trying to deal with you guys. But maybe she likes it that way."

Just as Chiaki was about to snap back at her, getting up, perhaps in preparation for violence, Kana patted her on the head, patronizingly, pushing down the conspicuous mound of hair at the top.

"Don't ever change, okay?" Kana said. "Not about this."

She walked into the doorway, flashed Chiaki a "V for victory" sign with her fingers, and strode off, finally starting to laugh hysterically.

Chiaki sat in her wake, stymied.

_What the heck?_

* * *

Chiaki stared at the ceiling of her bedroom.

_I wonder if it was really the right decision, telling them._

She thought about it.

_Haruka will come around to it, some day._

_It went better than I thought it would_, she thought.

She looked at the necklace that lay on her bedside counter, with its three points, like an arrow pointing up, or an inverted sunset.

_This…is enough._

She slept.

* * *

Author's note: And there it is. It's not quite finished yet—there's still an epilogue and an omake I've been waiting forever to write—but most of the mainline plotlines have been resolved, with the epilogue taking care of one or two more.

If you've been reading carefully, there's one glaring plotline I left unresolved. Frankly, it's because I decided it deserved a lot more than subplot treatment.

My original plan was that I would resolve somewhere in the last few chapters, but the more I thought about it, the less it looked like there would be space among all the other stuff going on, and the less plausible it seemed. The stuff already going on was already consuming all the focus and energy of the characters involved; it is unlikely they would bring up something else on top of that. I always intended this string of chapters to be just a little like a train wreck—but not that much of one.

Besides, Hosaka really doesn't show up as much as I would like, and certainly isn't going down without a fight.

…it's really more like a nexus of several subplots.

The upshot here is I've been convinced to work on a third long story. It won't come immediately; there's other stuff that comes first, and I also want to go back and revise everything that leads up to this. Fix plotholes, expand on events, fix typos, and so forth. In particular, my prequel story Advice is starting to feel in need of work, now that I have a better feel for all the characters involved and a lot more experience doing this.

So from here is:

*Epilogue Ch. 13

*Omake Ch. 14 (Really should be its own one-shot, but I like the idea of having omakes)

*Another alternate history one-shot.

*Uchida/Yoshino story?

*Alternate revising previous chapters/writing a third story.

The fourth item was the planned omake for the _next_ story which I'm really starting to feel should be its own story. Among other things, it doesn't feel like a one-chapter.

Finally, I should acknowledge half-note for proofreading some of these chapters and, perhaps just as importantly, acting as a sounding board for massive airdrops of ideas/explanatory exposition. Consider this indirect apology for how huge those messages were…


	13. Life Moves On

"So you're sure you're not going to dress up for this?" Touma asked, continuing her facetious argument.

The three of them stood in front of Makoto's front door, waiting for him to open the door so they could go in. The day had dawned bright, clear, and surprisingly warm.

"Why the hell would I dress up for this?" he asked, taking it way too seriously. "I'm trying _not_ to give my mom any heart attacks."

_Though given how paranoid she is about her health, that's actually pretty unlikely_, he thought, apropos of nothing.

"Not like she hasn't seen Mako-chan before," Touma pointed out.

Makoto closed his eyes in annoyance and took a calming breath.

"Chiaki!" he said, turning towards her. "I'm not so sure about bringing Touma anymore. I think she has some strange biases—"

"Ha, ha, very funny," Touma interrupted.

"A better question might be: 'Why am I standing around waiting for Makoto to open the damn door?" Chiaki complained sarcastically. "I believe the answer is 'Because my friends can't get their panties unbunched enough for him to get the damn keys!' And yes, that definitely includes you, Makoto."

Touma snickered.

"I hate you guys," he said, eyes narrowing. "Have I ever mentioned that?"

"I don't know about that," Touma said, deliberately solemn. "That certainly seems difficult to believe—"

"Just open the door!" Chiaki said. "Stop stalling!"

Chiaki was as impatient as the rest of them, but was also impatient to just get it _over_ with.

Touma sighed.

"Are we all ready?" she asked. "We have what we're supposed to say prepared?"

Before either of them could answer, the door opened, swinging inward. Makoto's mother emerged into the doorway.

"Here's a new face," she said, looking Chiaki over, already suspecting who she was. "Who have you brought home today, Makoto?"

"Good morning," the girl with the long hair said. "I'm Minami Chiaki. I believe you've heard of me."

* * *

They sat around the kitchen table while his mother poured them tea.

"I'm sorry his father isn't here," she said politely. "Working overtime today."

"I see," Chiaki said.

"He always does," Makoto commented blandly.

His mother glanced at him warningly.

Chiaki took a sip of her tea, with deliberate delicacy. The others watched her carefully.

"Gyokuro," she said.

_And pretty good quality, at that_, she thought.

"Ah, yes," his mother said, obviously pleased Chiaki had noticed.

_She's doing a good job winning her over_, Makoto thought.

Makoto looked at his tea, bemused by the fact that he hadn't noticed. Touma surreptitiously took a sip, trying to taste the difference from what Natsuki usually served.

Makoto's mother cleared her throat, obviously as uncomfortable as the rest of them.

"So, uh, I take it you two are getting along?" she asked, trying to read Chiaki's face for any sign that Chiaki _knew_. It seemed strange to her that they could be close without her knowing about it.

"You could say that," Chiaki answered.

In the awkward silence that ensued, Makoto discovered a newfound interest in the shape and texture of the ceiling fixture above him, coincidentally relieving him of the need to look at either of the main participants in the conversation.

"So what are your hobbies?" his mother asked, defaulting to the most stereotypical possible question.

"I play video games," Chiaki said, saying the first thing that came to mind. "And board games too, I guess. I'm really good at calligraphy. I go shopping often. Oh, and I read a lot."

"Don't listen to her," Touma said, leaning forward confidentially. "Reading is by far the most important thing on that list."

Chiaki gave her a hard kick in the shin. It showed in Touma's grimace. Touma sat back down.

The woman across from her chuckled nervously. She certainly wasn't going to tell Chiaki anything. If her son could actually—and this was fairly surprising to her—talk a girl into following him, then good for him, but his strange new…hobby would be a problem. She would have to remind him of that particular downside to his inclinations, but she wasn't going to be the one releasing any secrets just to prove a point.

"I'm really bad at this, as you can tell," she said. "It's okay. I know everything I need to know. I heard from Makoto-kun. You get good grades, you're pretty good-looking—why am I saying this? No. No more of this weird questioning."

The three of them glanced at each. Unfortunately, they weren't yet good enough at reading each other's body language to successfully convey the amount of information necessary to reach a consensus. Makoto shrugged, slightly embarrassed, trying to point out that what he had said about Chiaki was true, so why not say it? Touma was jerking her eyebrow, trying to judge if any of them wanted to bail out now, while it was still possible. Chiaki was simply observing, trying to see if either of them had any ideas as to what she should say at this point.

It all got pretty badly garbled.

"You're friends with Touma, too, though?" his mother asked, interrupting the exchange of signals, saying what she thought was a relatively safe side question. Touma was here, after all, which meant she had to be reasonably close to Chiaki as well as Makoto.

"Yes," Chiaki said, eyes darting around. It was the easiest answer, after all.

"I see," the woman said, tilting her head. That had seemed an unusual response.

Something nagged at her. There was a strange feeling she had, seeing the three of them as a group.

She shook her head, trying to shake it off.

Touma tried to look innocent.

Makoto's mother chuckled nervously, again.

"Well, let me get some snacks," she said, beginning to get up.

Chiaki sighed, with deliberate conspicuity. She knew she had to channel this conversation in a more constructive direction, and she could only be blunt now.

"I know all about the girl named Mako-chan," she said, as plainly as she could. "That's what I'm here to talk about."

His mother stopped mid-motion, then sat down rapidly, not quite collapsing into her chair. She sat there for a moment, motionless.

"I thought you might," she said, finally, leaning forward, firming her voice and demeanor. "But it didn't seem like you did, so I didn't say anything.

She looked Chiaki in the eye.

"And you're okay with it?" she demanded. It was difficult to judge anything from her expression. She seemed…more solicitous than anything.

Chiaki looked back at her and shrugged, as nonchalantly as possible.

"I have strange tastes," she said. What was she supposed to say? Any other explanation would have been too cumbersome.

"So people like that do exist," the other woman said, just as flippantly, leaning back into her chair. She looked at the ceiling.

"I just want you to consider letting him do this," Chiaki said, after a few seconds to collect her thoughts. "I'm aware that he's careless sometimes, but we're willing to cover for him. And it's not as if he's failed to get a girlfriend, which might be one concern."

His mother looked back at her incredulously. Among other things, the complexity of the issues involved boggled her.

Chiaki wasn't able to suppress a brief moment of broken eye contact.

"We're determined to make this work," Makoto said, injecting himself into the conversation, having finally overcome his natural reluctance to say anything.

"Were I a more normal parent," his mother said, sitting up straight and cutting off whatever Makoto had been about to say, "he would be grounded, and the rest of you would be _persona non grata_ here. But instead we're sitting here, drinking tea, talking about it. Have you thought about that?"

They shook their heads no, even though in fact they _had_ thought about it.

"Have you thought about what you're doing?" she asked, gaining momentum. "We're not talking about a damn game where you get to play dress-up and have fun little shopping trips. This is someone he'd have to hide for the rest of his life. You know the alternative is too terrible to suffer."

"Of course we've thought about it!" Touma said, frustrated. "We wouldn't be doing this if it were just a game!"

Chiaki looked at her sidelong, warning her to be careful.

"I understand your concerns," Chiaki said, trying to phrase things as logically as possible. "But with regards to his welfare, you have to realize that he would have to hide something about himself, whether he "dresses up" or not. At least with the former, he doesn't have to be miserable."

"Which I would be," Makoto said, avoiding his mother's gaze.

He swallowed, trying to recall what he needed to say, what they had planned.

"The past two weeks I tried stopping. I—I couldn't take it. At the end, I almost lost control. It's—it's possible all those mistakes I kept making were a symptom of that. If I tried to stop, it might be even more dangerous."

His mother looked only mildly surprised, glancing over their determined and serious faces.

_Her reactions are so strange_, Touma thought. _This is nothing like what we expected. We can't even use most of our lines!_

"I can see you're determined," the woman said. "And I won't insult you by asking if you've planned for what might happen in the future. But are you sure you know what the risks are?"

"We'll deal with them when we get to them," Touma said. "What's important is that we support each other!"

The woman looked at Touma and for a moment Touma thought she saw a hint of….warmth? Nostalgia?

"That's what I thought, too," she said, eyes suddenly implacable. "I've always had a lot of sympathy for you, in particular."

They looked at her, utterly confused. What was she saying? Did she know something about Touma?

"Want to hear a story?" his mother asked, following one seeming non-sequitur with another.

They gave, as an answer, uniformly perplexed expressions.

His mother looked down into her cup of tea.

"I wouldn't ordinarily discuss this, but with you three…"

She stopped, unsure how to continue. Makoto racked his brain, trying to understand what might be going on.

"Excuse me for a moment," she said, suddenly, rising from her chair and leaving the room with a series of incisive movements.

Immediately the other two looked at Makoto, but they could tell from the expression on his face that he, too, had no idea what was going on.

When the woman came back, she was carrying a set of old photos. She placed one face-up on the table and sat back down, silently.

They leaned over to peer at it.

A small group of friends, dressed in old-fashioned school uniforms, holding various silly poses and smiling. She waited until she was satisfied they had seen their fill.

"It's a picture we took when we graduated high school. Where am I in this picture?" she asked.

"None of them look like you," Makoto said, furrowing his brow.

Then again, he thought, he could hardly be blamed for failing to recognize her; he had never seen any pictures of her from back then.

"Maybe…the short girl over here?" Chiaki said tentatively, pointing at the photo.

"No," Touma said immediately, as if she had just been waiting for someone to cue her. She looked at the picture with a strange look. "That's wrong."

She placed her finger instead on what appeared to be a short boy with his arm around another, taller boy.

"That's you, isn't it?" she asked.

Makoto's mother smiled wistfully, but nervously. She had shared this with very few people in her life but, of all people, Touma must certainly understand.

"Yes, I thought you would figure it out first. You can probably imagine the work it took to convince them to let me wear a boy's uniform."

She was filled with the admixture of shame, regret, and contradictory nostalgia that always arose when she thought about the past.

Makoto sat back down, blown back by the sheer force of the revelation.

"Explains a lot, doesn't it?" his mother asked, addressing Touma. "There's the reason I liked you so much, why I was always so nice to you."

"You never said anything…" Makoto began, lamely, visibly immensely disturbed.

"And why should I have?" she snapped, standing slightly. "I wouldn't even mention it now except that, of course, it didn't end well."

She paused, but they didn't say anything, waiting for clarification.

She sat back down, releasing a slight sigh. Suddenly, she looked…old.

"Right now, my husband and I are the typical married couple. One child, I stay at home, and he goes out every day and sells his soul to that damn company of his. But…there was a time when I was different, and he was the only reason I held myself together."

The corner of her mouth twitched.

"I'm a sucker for young couples like you two, it's true. It's because I'm nostalgic."

"My husband was the only who stood by me all those years, no matter what happened. He tracked down and fought with those who insulted me, hid the alcohol when I started drinking too much, and did everything he could to help me keep my grades up."

She cast her eyes downward.

"It wasn't enough. I dropped out. You should have seen the looks on my parents' faces. I was so, so close to…"

Her voice trailed off.

Touma glanced surreptitiously at Makoto, at the confused look of horror on his face.

"In the end," his mother continued. "I pulled through. He pulled me through. We hadn't planned to get married so early, but it seemed like a good idea. And even though he was against it, I decided to bury all of it, become as traditional as possible. Ultimately…I talked him into it."

She looked back up, at the rest of them watching her with shocked eyes, Makoto looking close to an aneurysm.

"Not the kind of thing you tell your kids," she said.

She paused rhetorically.

"Until the day they need to hear it," she finished. "And that time has come."

She stood up, placed her palms on the table, and leaned forward, applying as much pressure with her body language as she could.

"I've been down this road," she said. "It's not worth it."

"But you're okay now, right?" Makoto said, quietly, but building in volume. "You married Dad and you're happy now, right?"

"Of course I am," she said, bristling at his implied accusation. "But that's not the point."

"It's the entire point!" he said, standing up to match her posture. "He loved you, and you loved him, and in the end you pulled through. And there were happy moments, even in college, weren't there?"

Chiaki stayed out of the argument, aware it was not her place to intrude, and frankly amazed Makoto could say so much to his own mother. Even Touma stayed silent.

"Of course there were!" she argued back. "But it wasn't as happy as it could have been!"

"You wouldn't have been any happier if you had denied it!" he said, finally yelling.

She turned just enough away so she wouldn't have to look back at him.

"I suspected for a long, long time that you were different," she said, voice full of regret. "But I always told myself I was imagining things. I guess I wasn't. Honestly, I didn't really think I could talk you, or your friends, out of it today. It wouldn't have worked on me back then, either."

"I just want you to have a normal life," she said, bitterly, but sadly. "That's all I want."

Makoto took a deep breath, his hand reaching instinctively for his collar.

"That's not what happened," he said, putting his hand back down. "I'm sorry."

She looked at him.

"I hope you're right," she said. "About everything. After all, things are different now, you have parents who will understand…"

She sighed.

"I won't stop you. I just hope you're right."

"My goal is to prove I'm right," he said, with just a bit less than full determination.

She smiled slightly, then looked away from him, at the others.

"Well, do you two want cookies, or cake, or…both?" she asked.

All three blinked at the abrupt transition.

"Cookies….I guess?" Touma said, attaching a question to her sentence to give Makoto a way to say something, if he wanted to.

Makoto thought for a moment. His mother tensed.

"Let's have both," he said. "I think Chiaki wants the cake."

Chiaki let out a gust of air.

"I wasn't going to say so, but yes that is correct."

"I think I have some mochi too—"his mother began.

"So, uh…" Makoto began, having finally thought of something. They looked at him.

"I don't suppose I could store my clothes at home, instead of at Touma's, could I?" he asked, warily.

"No!" his mother instantly shot back, having already thought about this very topic.

"I didn't think so," he said gloomily.

* * *

"Hey, stop falling asleep!"

Chiaki nudged Touma hard in the side. Touma's head snapped back up.

"But it's so _boring_," Touma complained.

"I agree," Kana said, two seats down, voice lethargic. "I don't know why I wanted to come so badly. I mean, it's not like I don't know what these things are like."

"Hush, all of you!" Haruka admonished.

They hushed.

They watched quietly as Natsuki's school principal continued his long-winded speech about responsibility and making the most of one's life and other such clichés. And it really was "watch", since they could barely hear anything he was saying from their positions. Whoever had designed this auditorium apparently didn't understand acoustics very well—or just hated graduation speeches. Nonetheless, the audience of parents and other assorted relatives was silent.

Touma lasted only a few moments before starting to nod off again. She turned towards Fujioka, trying to stave off sleep.

"Hey, why are you here anyway?" she asked, as loudly as she dared.

"Because of Kana, obviously," he breathed. "And I don't trust Akira—"

Haruka reached over and slapped him on the head, causing him to flinch from the impact. They stopped talking.

A while later, Touma drifted into a deep sleep, and this time no one woke her.

She dreamed.

_He sat at the table. Next to him lay the hat that had once been part of his elementary school uniform._

_He thought nothing of it._

_The second brother got up to get the door. Try as he could, he just couldn't remember what his name was. But strangely, it didn't bother him._

_When Fujioka appeared at the sliding door, Touma panicked._

I'm still in his uniform!_ He thought _

_He certainly couldn't hide it from Fujioka now._

"_A boy's uniform," Fujioka said, smiling amiably. "How cute!"_

_His mouth hung open in embarrassment._

"_Now don't get any wrong ideas!" Mako-chan said, standing up, appearing from somewhere next to him. "He forced me and Touma to switch uniforms, which—which is why—"_

"_No, it's okay," Fujioka said, hands up to indicate her harmlessness. "I understand. He's totally like that sometimes."_

"_What's that supposed to mean?" the boy in question asked, leaning onto Fujioka's shoulder with his superior height. Fujioka chuckled nervously._

"_I was kidding!" she said._

_Touma sighed. That was a good save by Mako-chan._

_Touma looked sidelong at Mako-chan. Dressed as she was now, Fujioka could hardly miss the two obvious, if small, bumps on Mako-chan's chest. Could Fujioka really still believe that she was a boy?_

_Well, she seemed to have bought it._

_Touma sighed._

_Fujioka's adoration of…that guy was obvious to everyone who glanced in their general direction, but he was completely oblivious—or so it seemed. Who knew? Maybe he was pretending. Meanwhile, the rest of them waited, agonizingly, for the day the two of them stopped dancing around each other and acknowledged what they all knew._

_The oldest brother appeared from the kitchen._

"_Well, now that she's finally here," he said, "we can leave."_

_The trip to their destination seemed to fly by in a blur. He stopped to wave to Uchida and Yoshino, the first of whom was standing proudly, shovel in hand, next to a giant sand castle that had apparently won him a prize. _

_He took care to steer clear of Hosaka, Kana's crazy friend with the penchant for zoning out and unbuttoning her shirt on a completely random basis. As a boy, he was never sure whether to act pleased or disturbed. She seemed to be heading in the same direction they were._

_Touma wondered why there was a black cat following her._

_When they got to the school, he didn't notice that he was now much taller than he had been before._

_Someone was missing…_

"_No one is missing," Mako-chan said. "This isn't an athletics festival, you know! This is your sister's graduation ceremony!"_

"_I never said it was," he protested, turning to look at Mako-chan, who was dressed in his "Makoto" disguise._

"_That girl never existed!" Mako-chan insisted._

_He squinted his eyes in confusion—and finally saw his other sisters approaching._

"_Ugh, it seems they're overloaded," His oldest sister explained, adjusting her glasses and walking up. "We're going to have to sit on folding chairs way in the back."_

_Why couldn't he remember any of their names?_

"_Typical," one of them said, annoyed._

_Touma suddenly noticed Fujioka glaring menacingly at her other sister, the short one, who was cringing._

"_Fu—Fujioka," she said._

"_So you're here too, " Fujioka growled back, the hostile tone in her voice not at all like her usual self._

_Something was wrong here…_

_Something—_

"_Hey, baka-yaro!" a voice yelled at him from behind, interrupting his thoughts._

_He turned to look._

"_He's finally here!" The girl next to him said._

_He looked at the shorter boy advancing on him, at the string around his neck that implied the necklace he must be wearing._

"_Hey idiot!" he repeated, grabbing Touma by the shoulders and shaking._

_It hit Touma like a flash of revelation._

This isn't right. This isn't right. Why is Chiaki—

"_Wake up!" the boy yelled._

"Wake up, you baka-yaro!" Chiaki repeated.

Touma cringed from Chiaki's face, almost sliding her chair backwards. The look of terror on her face must have been something to behold.

"Is—is something wrong?" Chiaki asked, thrown completely off-kilter by Touma's horrified expression.

"Just—just a disturbing dream," Touma responded, eyes still wide.

They looked into each other's wide eyes, almost comically.

"Is it—" Touma began to ask, reminding herself to calm down. She looked around.

"It's over," Chiaki said, following her line of thoughts exactly. "Congratulations on sleeping through your brother's entire graduation ceremony."

"I wanted to wake you," Makoto said, sticking his head over Chiaki's shoulder, "but your brother said we shouldn't."

Today, Makoto was wearing a full semi-formal dress for the occasion, complete with purse, bracelet, and of course, hairpin.

"Well, he was right," Touma said, pushing herself up and stretching.

"I've already been through this once with Haruo," Touma continued. "And Natsuki slept through that entire thing. We don't make a big deal of this kind of thing. Natsuki wouldn't mind. Besides, I didn't sleep through Haruka's."

Chiaki narrowed her eyes.

"Your family is weird," she commented. "And you slept through Kana's. But let's go. Haruka is already looking for your brother."

They walked only a couple of steps before a loud "Hey!" caused them to stop and look around.

_I haven't heard that voice since…_ Touma thought.

"Fancy meeting you here," Shuuichi said, walking up to the three of them. He was noticeably older now.

"Same," Touma said.

"You've got a sibling here?" she continued politely.

"Brother, actually," Shuuichi said, smiling amiably.

He seemed nervous.

_I'm probably imagining things,_ Touma thought.

"This is a new face," Shuuichi said, turning suddenly to face Makoto, who had cannily already backed off a couple of steps, trying to leave as stealthily as possible.

Touma just blinked. She hadn't even remembered about Mako-chan, or the danger to Makoto this situation represented.

"So how are things?" Chiaki asked, trying to distract him. "Which school did you go to?"

"I'm Shuuichi," he said, ignoring her completely and continuing to address Makoto. "What's your name?"

_What the heck is he doing? _Touma thought.

"It's—it's Mako-chan," Makoto said, fear written all over his face. "I'm—I'm a classmate of theirs."

_No! _Touma agonized privately. Makoto had just botched his own carefully-constructed cover story, wherein he was a former _kohai_ of Kana who now attended a different high school.

Touma tried to think of a way to bail him out.

"Ah, sorry," Shuuichi said, turning back towards Chiaki and Touma. "I'm being rude. You see, the thing is…"

He rubbed the back of his head, and Touma realized he really _was_ nervous.

"I already met Kana-chan, and I, uh…"

He swallowed visibly, then turned back towards Makoto.

"I wanted to ask her about you, since I saw you during the speeches, and I—I was telling her about—about how pretty you were, but she—she said I should just come here and ask directly, so…here I am."

He grabbed Makoto's hands and looked at him beseechingly.

"So how about it?" he asked. "I can take you to dinner or whatever you want. I'll pay."

Touma and Chiaki just stared at him, dumbfounded, mouths agape.

Makoto's face flashed rapidly through a variety of different expressions, before finally stabilizing on one of complete mortification.

He wrenched his hands away, staggered backward two steps, then hurried to cower behind Touma, quivering.

Shuuichi looked shocked, then devastated.

"D—Don't take it personally," Chiaki somehow managed to say, choking down both a laugh and expression of complete befuddlement. "She's very shy."

"And already taken!" Touma blurted out. "T—That's right! She already has a boyfriend."

"I—I see," Shuuichi said, "L—Lucky bastard."

He didn't look like he felt that much better, notwithstanding his attempt at humor.

"We've got to go," Touma said, pointing backward with her thumb. "We—we'll be seeing you."

"Okay," he said wanly.

They fled.

Just as they managed to reach the end of the row of excess chairs, Kana appeared from behind the exit door, Fujioka in tow, barely able to contain her mirth.

"Why do you guys look so freaked out?" she asked, smirking.

Something told Touma to look at Chiaki.

For a long moment, Chiaki simply stood still, looking at Kana.

Chiaki's fist flashed forward, her face showing briefly an expression of anger. She stopped her fist a hair's breadth away from Kana, but the gesture was so seemingly authentic, so sudden, that Kana flinched backward violently, tripping and falling to the floor, landing on her rear.

Touma and Fujioka blinked, simultaneously realizing that Chiaki hadn't really hit her. Makoto wore a satisfied expression, clearly thinking that Kana had had that coming. Fujioka looked shocked at the unexpected turn of events.

"Let's go," Chiaki said, turning and brushing symbolic dust off her shirt. Fujioka rushed to help Kana up.

"That was cheating!" Kana shouted at them as they departed.

They found Natsuki standing in the middle of the crowd next to Hitomi and Hosaka. Hayami was in the process of arriving, holding a bottle of celebratory champagne, which she was apparently no longer bothering to try and disguise as juice. Hitomi held a bag of plastic cups. Hosaka was looking at the sky, lost in some obscure train of thought.

"The others aren't here yet?" Touma asked.

Natsuki shook his head no.

"They must not have seen you," Makoto said.

"Haruka probably got distracted by Kana disappearing on her," Chiaki said. Hosaka failed to react.

"Oh, also, congratulations, I guess," Touma said.

"You too," she said, turning towards Hitomi, who smiled back at her.

"Yeah, congratulations," Makoto said.

"Congratulations," Chiaki mumbled, reluctant to praise one of her mortal enemies.

"Thanks," Natsuki said, simply, reaching over to pat Chiaki's head patronizingly, a luxury he could afford because of his height.

He looked at Hosaka, as if to say "See? I can be nice if I want." He had gone about it the wrong way, however, only making her angry.

Hosaka still didn't react, having missed the entire chain of events.

"You doing well, Chiaki-chan?" Hayami asked, disrupting Chiaki's sullen glaring at Natsuki. "I haven't been over to visit for a long time."

Touma looked at her warily.

"I'm fine," Chiaki said distractedly, still trying to think of a way to get back at Natsuki.

Hayami stared carefully at her neck for a moment, then glanced around, eyes flashing.

"That's good to hear," she said, as mysterious as ever.

They stood around uncomfortably, waiting for the others to show up.

"So anyway, Natsuki," Touma said, feeling she needed to say _something_ to break the silence. "My birthday is coming up pretty soon."

"So it is," Natsuki said.

"I know what I want," Touma said. "So listen carefully. Please, this year, just this once, can you guys get me what I want? Can you do that? Don't change your mind at the last moment and get me an umbrella. I don't want an umbrella!"

"Just say it already," Natsuki said, stung by the implied reprove. "What is it? Another set of cleats?"

"Actually," she said. "This year I want a bicycle. It's pretty strange that I don't have one, and with one I could get places easier."

Natsuki looked at her expression for a moment, trying to glean her motivations.

"Bicycle…" Chiaki said thoughtfully.

"Sure," Natsuki said. He didn't see why not. It'd be costlier than most years, but…

Touma smiled to herself.

_Damn it, birthday presents…_ Makoto thought.

"Something wrong?" Chiaki asked.

"No, nothing," he said, too hastily.

"They're here!" Hayami said, waving broadly at something behind them.

They turned to look.

Haruka wore a vaguely annoyed expression which she quickly concealed, while Kana, rather typically, covered the last part of the distance by running.

"Well, congratulations," Haruka said to Natsuki, as to her right Chiaki squirmed inside Kana's loose chokehold.

"Yes, thank you," he responded simply.

The other brothers repeated the sentiment while Fujioka, feeling rather out of place, did his best to blend into the background.

"Well, some of us are of drinking age," Hayami said, "So I move that—"

"Wh-What is Minami-san doing here, Natsuki?" Hosaka asked, interrupting, having been freed from his reverie by Haruka's voice.

His tone was so strange and his voice so off-pitch that the others around him, and even some nearby strangers, stopped talking and turned to look at him.

"What do you mean, Hosaka?" Natsuki asked, confused enough to let it show on his face. "I told you I was bringing them."

"No, you didn't" Hosaka said, mind obviously racing, eyes darting around. "You said that you were bringing that girl you—"

He visibly forced himself to stop talking, face suddenly agitated.

"Hosaka," Natsuki said, turning himself slightly, voice both angry and confused. "I told you about that in confidence. Don't just start saying it out loud in front of—"

He, too, clamped his mouth shut, creating a palpable vacuum of silence within the background conversation. They stared at each other with slightly horrified expressions.

Hayami and Hitomi exchanged glances, and so did Touma and Akira. Haruka looked seriously confused.

"Is something—" Touma began, the two of them having decided she would ask.

She was interrupted by the loud popping noise of Hayami opening her bottle of champagne with a deft twist of a corkscrew.

"Come on, guys, let's celebrate!" she said. Hitomi already had a cup out.

Hosaka and Natsuki took the cue, relaxing, but not nearly enough.

"Perhaps you should wait at least until we get back to the house," Haruo said, looking around shiftily, ever practical. "Only a few of us here are over twenty, so we should at least try not to do anything in public."

"Right, right," Hayami said, not disappointed. Her motive was only distraction, after all. Ah, but champagne was really meant to be drunk immediately…

They began to drift toward one of the school gates.

"Well, I don't intend to drink it anyway," Haruka commented, irrelevantly.

* * *

"She's really taking a long time in there," Makoto commented, shifting restlessly. "How long could it possibly take, anyway?"

"Considering you've shown up to the pool as Mako-chan at least once in the past," Chiaki commented drily. "You are clearly the prime expert on how long it takes to change into a swimsuit. Experience on both sides of the gender line. So I'll take your word for it, but I also enjoin you to have patience."

She had spent the entire day visibly changing her mind about trying to learn to swim—occasionally demanding that they turn around and go back—so it was an open question whether she wanted Touma to finish faster or stay in there forever.

_Such a waste_, she thought, fingering the straps of yet another newly purchased swimsuit. Roughly every two years, she would buy one, and use it perhaps two or three times, barely getting it wet when she did, before finding that she had to purchase a new one to accommodate her increased size. It was no accident; partly out of vague respect for Chiaki's refusal to swim, and partly because of the cumbersome nature of visiting the pool, she and her sisters rarely went.

Well, perhaps that would change.

Makoto sighed, not bothering to rise to the bait her words had planted. He was learning: It was not reasonable to expect them not to make fun of him, so why get incensed? Though it was not as if his anger was anything to fear.

"I'm just saying she's been in there at least twice as long as anyone else," he complained. "What could possibly be taking so long?"

"Plenty of things," Chiaki said, "You know, depending on the moon, the temperature, the humidity…"

"What are you talking about?" he asked, knitting his forehead trying to decrypt her statement.

"Nothing," she said, instantly regretting the comment. Well, among other things, she had been deliberately confusing him.

"Anyway," she said, changing the topic. "Did you see her with those fans of hers the other day? She's never been that nice to any of them before."

"Yeah!" he said, not noticing the verbal maneuver. "She even signed autographs! They hardly knew how to behave, with her acting so nice. They probably think she's gone crazy!"

Chiaki cracked a smile at the comment, despite herself.

"Sorry I took so long."

Touma's voice rang out in front of them, finally. They turned to look.

"It's just I swear this thing doesn't fit anymore," she continued, pulling at the straps of her uncomfortably-small bikini top. "It doesn't make sense; I only bought this thing recently."

She had also stared at herself in the small mirror in the changing room, appalled that she had let Uchida convince her something with that kind of design, even if it had only been an afterthought to the shirts and the purses…

"Only a few more years," Chiaki said, mostly to herself, snapping her head away, shaking a fist at herself. "Only a few more years."

Makoto openly stared at Touma. She tilted her head slightly, wondering what was up with them.

"So are we going to do this or not?" she asked after deciding it was not worth investigating.

"Let's go," Chiaki said, with only partial conviction. That, at least, was something.

She wasn't explicitly afraid of water, just highly reluctant to go beyond a certain depth because of her lack of swimming skills. Thus, it was a relatively simple matter to enter the water. It was what came after that was the problem.

"I wonder if you're really going to do it this time," Kana said, appearing at the water's edge, dripping water, having apparently recently emerged from somewhere else in the pool. "Frankly, I'm hurt, very hurt, that you would reject all my attempts to teach you to swim, and then ask someone else."

She made a transparently false gesture of pain, hand over her heart.

"Maybe I wouldn't have if you didn't keep trying to drown me!" Chiaki said, indignantly, trying to rise up, causing large ripples in the water's surface. "And you're just here to try and interfere again!"

Makoto and Touma wore bemused expressions, both thinking some variation of "here they go again!"

Kana held up her hands in a gesture of harmlessness none of them believed.

"Not I," she said. "I was just making you get used to the water. And if I had a little fun while doing it, then…"

"Oh, leave them alone, Kana," Haruka said, from her distant poolside beach chair, reading one of those dime-a-dozen sentimental novels she was so fond of. Actually, it was moderately surprising that she wasn't asleep.

After a moment of thought, Kana shrugged and trod off. The three of them got back to business.

"Do you really think they can do it?" Kana asked, looming over Haruka, dripping water downward. At least she had been nice enough to avoid getting the book wet.

"Probably," Haruka said, only half paying attention. "You really weren't the right teacher for her, and I've never been much of a fan of it either. Forcing her into it really wasn't the best idea either, even if it turned out well."

"You don't understand!" Kana said. "Yeah, I was just messing around, but even when I was serious, she never took to my lessons. And she was the one who wanted to! I tell you, she just has no aptitude."

"Wouldn't be the first in the family," Haruka said, shrugging distractedly. The book was really quite good.

Kana made a frustrated noise, before reacting slightly to a sudden yell from behind her.

"Goddamn it, Touma!" Chiaki's acrid voice rang out.

"Look, just don't panic," Touma said, not sure whether to be soothing or yell back. "You can do it, it's just—"

"That's a lie. Clearly the human body is not meant to float like that."

"You know that's not true!" Touma said, trying not to be aggravated. "Look! That kid over there is doing it! Why can't you? I'm telling you—"

The sentence ended in splutters as Chiaki launched as much water as she could manage in Touma's general direction, unfortunately getting Makoto caught in much of the crossfire.

Kana made a "you see?" gesture with her arms as their water fight continued in the background.

Sighing, Haruka put down her book.

"Well, whether it works or not," she said, "There's no better motivation for learning than not being able to keep up with your friends."

As if to accentuate her point, Makoto, having dived down, pulled Chiaki's legs out from under her, him and Touma dashing away in the water far too fast for her to enact revenge.

"And you know," she continued. "It's not bad being able to leave her alone for a while. I feel more secure. Perhaps…"

Kana raised her eyebrow questioningly.

Haruka left the sentence unfinished.

* * *

Touma was in an absurdly good mood.

She locked her bicycle to one of the ubiquitous bike racks scattered around the school. It was such a simple solution to the problem of getting to school, and she was amazed she hadn't thought of it before. Having a bike relived her of having to always make the bus or risk being fifteen minutes late. Sure, it took somewhat longer, but things actually worked out so she could leave slightly _later_ than before. No more of this nonsense of arriving fifteen minutes early and having to stand around waiting. Though this was the first day, so she had to arrive early anyway.

She thought back to the bike she had owned, long ago, looking up at the three-floor building looming in front of her. It had gotten too small, but her brothers had been well-prepared to scrape together their meager funds to buy a new one. She had refused, pointing out simply that school was close enough to walk to easily, and that she never used it. She wanted a new soccer ball, and kicked up a massive fuss about it until they acceded. After learning to ride it, a feat she grudgingly acknowledged Akira for, she had hardly ever touched it again. She never rode it because she had nowhere to go.

More importantly, she had no one to go there with.

Her birthday hadn't even arrived yet, but her brothers had decided to buy it for her early, so that she could use it before the school year started. She suspected that they had been more hurt than they let on by her rejection of the bike all those years ago.

She felt a little guilty, since Chiaki had sat her down and forced her to work out just how much money her brothers showered on her in the form of cash and unwanted gifts. It was far more than she thought it was.

_I'll think of a way to tone it down_, she thought. _But I needed that bike._

There was one downside to the new arrangement, though. It would leave Makoto sad and lonely alone on the bus.

_And we can't have that, now can we?_ she thought, smirking slightly. Well, she had already put the two of them on notice that she expected them to get bikes of their own. They could probably pull it off.

She looked up at the sun, brushing aside her new bangs, which she had decided to keep. It was going to be a warm day. She regretted not wearing a skirt.

She entered the building via a side door, pausing to acknowledge a boy who held open the door for her. Now that she had a vague idea—based on personal experience—of what to look for, and wasn't so constantly distracted, she suspected a few of them of being smitten with her. It seemed particularly likely when she realized that the ones in question had made an unusual habit of attending her soccer games. There was nothing she could really do except pretend to be oblivious.

She met Uchida and Yoshino by chance at the bottom of the stairs. She leapt her way up to the second floor, Yoshino followed at a more leisurely pace, and Uchida brought up the rear.

"Why exactly do the older students get placed _higher_?" Uchida complained. "We should have the privilege of not having to climb up as much! Third-year is going to be hell."

She didn't really look tired, just lazy.

"You're just out of shape," Yoshino said reprovingly. "Look at you! A healthy teenager complaining about climbing stairs. What happened to you? I remember when you were _this_ tall—"

Here she made a gesture with her hand indicating how high she was talking about.

"—and climbing way more than this lousy set of stairs. When did you get this lazy?"

Uchida narrowed her eyes.

"Stop acting like my mother," she said grouchily. "You're my age; you don't get to talk about when I was younger. Besides, back then I had stuff to look forward to at the top."

Yoshino made a gesture of faux-shock.

"I'm hurt," she said. "You're saying you're not looking forward to me and Touma at the top of these stairs?"

Uchida made an incoherent annoyed noise and pouted.

Touma had just observed the whole time, grinning stupidly. They did this all the time, but today, in her elevated mood, she found it absurdly amusing.

Still, they had to get going.

"You can argue about it later," she said, still trying to suppress a smile. "We should move."

They jostled their way through the crowd besieging the small section of the hallway where class assignments were listed on a bulletin board.

It didn't take her long to find her name on one of the lists. Once she had done so, it took surprisingly little effort to find every single one of her friends.

"Look at that!" she said. "We're all in the same class. What are the chances of that?"

"Yes!" Uchida celebrated.

Yoshino bent over and inspected the list carefully, frowning.

Touma glared at a boy who looked about to push his way in. He backed off.

"What is it?" Uchida asked Yoshino, while Touma was occupied holding the others back. Uchida also bent over to look.

"Look at that," Yoshino said, projecting her voice over the din. "Shuuichi transferred in. I thought he said it was too far away for him. Guess he changed his mind. But you know, I was always got the impression he was just covering up the fact that he couldn't score high enough on the tests."

"What?" Touma exclaimed loudly, having finally processed the sentence. The force of her exclamation was lost in the general commotion.

She bent down and stared at horror at Shuuichi's name on the class roster, her good mood dissolving instantly. How had he—

_Damn it, Makoto!_ she thought. _Why were you so careless?_

Uchida stood up and backed off from the list. Yoshino followed suit.

Two girls quickly moved in to fill the space they had vacated.

"I was so surprised when he couldn't get in," Uchida said, into Yoshino's ear. "Off all the people not to score high enough…I was certain Makoto and I would be the ones to flame out."

"Well," Yoshino said. "I wasn't going to let that happen. Remember those all-nighters?"

"Yes, I remember letting you torture me," Uchida said.

"Stop calling it that!" Yoshino protested. "You know it was worth it. Besides, it wasn't just me."

"Come on, Touma," she said to the girl still staring at the roster as if it were a magic-eye picture. "Let others have a chance. What's so bad about having Shuuichi in our class?"

"No—nothing," Touma said, not loud enough to be heard. "Let's go."

She heeded their words and backed off. The three of them pushed their way back out of the crowd, which was only slightly easier than pushing their way in.

The moment they emerged from the crowd, Misawa and a small group of girls mobbed her. Touma sighed but didn't say anything. Among other things, she had decided that she had really always been unfair to them and some of them, perhaps, would make suitable friends.

"We heard you're giving autographs," Misawa said. "Is this true? If it is, this is totally unfair! As president of your fanclub, I ask that you either stop or give one to us all! Or at least me, since they were mean enough to put us in different classes this year."

Looking carefully at the group in front of her, she spotted several who, by demeanor and height, were clearly brand-new first-years, and who looked a little confused.

_They're already trying to indoctrinate the new kids!_ Touma thought.

"What a shame," Touma said, as sincerely as she could.

The others protested at Misawa's selfishness.

"And I'm be glad to hand them out later," Touma said, smiling nicely, discovering that her good mood hadn't really been extinguished. "But not right now, I've got somewhere to go. Why don't I give you one?"

They looked utterly amazed, glancing at each other, completely unprepared for an actual acceptance. One of them fumbled a pen out of somewhere and Misawa, deciding that digging in her bag for paper was going to take long, awkwardly stuck out her uniform sleeve, which Touma signed. They stared at it reverently.

"I've got to go," Touma said, edging away.

"Wait a sec! Yoshino!" Misawa said.

"What?" Touma asked automatically, before realizing that the girl was not, in fact, talking to her.

"What?" Yoshino asked, after an awkward pause.

"You still going to run for student council president?" Misawa asked. "If so, you can count on our support. Thanks for keeping your promise!"

"I'm still thinking about it," Yoshino said, glancing at Touma, sounding unusually disconcerted. "It's an awful lot of work and meetings, and I'm not sure I want it."

"Well, we'll be there for you if you do," Misawa said.

"I told you," Yoshino said, feeling tense under Touma's glare. "I don't need that kind of help."

"It's not like that," Misawa said, shaking her head. "I told you. It's only a gesture of friendship."

"We've really got to go," Uchida said, thrusting her way into the conversation.

They left, after a moment.

"So it's true!" one of them said the moment Touma's back was turned. "She _has_ gone crazy!"

"Something must have happened!" another said.

"Yes," Misawa said gloomily, as if she had decidedly mixed feelings about it. "I…think something did."

Uchida kept glancing back until they went around a corner, solely to gain separation.

"So what was that about?" Touma asked. "What did you trade them in exchange for support? It has something to do with me, doesn't it?"

"Nothing important," Yoshino said. "Initially, it was just inviting her to join us after your game that one time. Harmless stuff. That was all I tried to trade."

_So that's why…_ Touma thought.

"Well?" Touma asked. "You said 'initially'. What else?"

Yoshino looked uncomfortable.

"It was a mistake to even talk to her," Yoshino said, avoiding Touma's gaze. "She asked me to help you deal with whatever you were going through, since I was closer to you. Like I said, I would have done so either way; I didn't need her to ask me. I told her that. I told her she didn't need to give me anything; it would only make me feel dirty."

Yoshino looked down.

"In the end, I don't even think I was that helpful," she said, twisting one of her bangs with a finger. "But I tried. At the time, I didn't think too much of it. But after that, she kept trying to talk to me and…it makes me feel like my motives aren't pure. That maybe I was being secretly selfish after all, and I wouldn't have tried so hard if it wasn't for that. I feel so guilty—"

"Don't worry about it," Touma said decisively. Yoshino looked up.

"I believe you," Touma said. "I know you did whatever you did out of friendship and out of the, uh, goodness of your heart. And I'm sure she did too. Maybe she was just asking a favor. Maybe she really is just trying to be friendly. Maybe she's just grateful. Have you considered that?"

Yoshino tilted her head slightly, as if it really hadn't occurred to her.

"And how can you say you didn't do anything?" Touma asked. "What about letting me stay over? What was that?"

Uchida nodded in agreement.

"The only thing worth feeling guilty about here is that part where you secretly tried to trade access," Touma said. "I wouldn't have minded if you had just asked."

Yoshino looked down thoughtfully.

Touma considered how unusual it was to see someone like Yoshino needing reassurance. She was also so confident, so self-assured…

Touma meant what she had said about it not being a big deal; from what Yoshino had said, she had gone a little too far in trying to play politics, had a misunderstanding with Misawa, started feeling guilty later, and let it chew at her quietly. It wouldn't have even bothered most people.

It occurred to Touma that maybe, despite all the evidence to the contrary, Yoshino wasn't as confident as she appeared.

Uchida cleared her throat loudly, a moment later.

"Yes, well—" she began.

"Anyway," Yoshino said, interrupting whatever Uchida was going to say. "I was going to point out that one of the school administrators has the same family name as Shuuichi. I wonder if that was a factor."

"You're thinking too hard," Uchida said. "If that's true, why couldn't he get in to start with? I'd like to think the school isn't that nepotistic."

"Good use of vocabulary!" Yoshino praised, executing a remarkable emotional turnaround. "And you're right; it doesn't make total sense. Maybe he just passed some sort of transfer examination? I'm not really sure how it works since, you know, it never mattered to me."

"Don't make fun of me," Uchida said, narrowing her eyes, referring to the "vocabulary" comment.

Touma kept her thoughts to herself. If Shuuichi really was here for the reasons she thought he was, he would have only had a week to pull it off. It wasn't impossible, and obviously plenty of people transferred between school years, but most of those people had actually moved; they weren't trying to move up into a more prestigious school in the same area. If there was really some sort of string-pulling involved here…

She had a sickening feeling she knew exactly why they had all ended up in the same class.

Though if that was really the case, then it wasn't all bad after all.

"Hey!" Uchida said, waking Touma from her reverie, but it turned out she wasn't talking to Touma.

They had found Makoto talking to a group of his friends by a set of windows, while Chiaki leaned against one of the windowsills, arms crossed, checking the time on her new cell phone.

"Have you all looked at the room assignments yet?" Yoshino asked, including Makoto's friends to be polite.

"No," Chiaki said evenly. "Or us two haven't anyway. _They_ have, and Makoto felt the need to stay here and talk, despite the fact that we're running out of time—"

"Oh, come on, don't be unfair!" Makoto complained.

"We haven't talked to him in a long time," one of his friends added. "Cut us some slack."

Several other of his male friends were looking visibly envious of the cloud of girls Makoto seemed to carry with him.

_If only they kne_w¸ Touma thought, not for the first time. _Though honestly, instead of looking jealous, they should be taking this opportunity to hit on some of us…_

_Which reminds me of Shuuichi again…_

"Well, there's no need to go look anyway," Yoshino said. "We are apparently all in the same class."

"Are we?" Chiaki asked, looking surprised.

Yoshino proceeded to fill them in on the other details.

"And the biggest news is," she finished. "We have a new transfer student. Remember Shuuichi? Apparently, he just transferred in."

Once again, Yoshino did not receive the reaction she expected, receiving instead frozen stares.

"You know? Shuuichi?" she reiterated. "From elementary—"

"We know," Chiaki said.

Makoto's had a look of shock, coupled with an expression that suggested he was trying to work through the ramifications quickly in his mind.

"Makoto?" one of his friends asked, waving a hand in front of his face. "Hello? Who is this Shuuichi guy? What's going on?"

Yoshino eyed the three of them in turn.

"I rather pride myself on not needing to ask questions like this," she said, looking at Touma. "But we haven't seen him for years, and he was a pretty nice guy. Why are you all so…worried?"

"We'll tell you later," Chiaki said, making an elaborate show of again checking the time on her cell phone. "But we should go. The beginning-of-year ceremony is about to start."

Without waiting for a response, she started dragging the still apoplectic Makoto away by the arm.

"But _who cares_ about—"Uchida began, raising her voice to reach Chiaki.

—_being late to the stupid ceremony?_ Touma mentally finished.

"Oh, nevermind," Uchida finished, instead.

Touma start following them, taking the cue to bail out.

"I guess we might as well go too," one of the boys said.

The rest of them followed suit.

"So, uh—" Touma heard one of the boys begin.

"Don't try it," Yoshino said coldly.

"But I wasn't—"

_"Don't_ try it," Yoshino repeated.

"But I just want to—"

"_Don't try it_!"

"Oh, come on, Yoshino," Uchida reproached. "You don't have to be rude about it."

* * *

It turned out that, no matter how hard Touma tried to blend into the crowd, it was impossible for a group as large as theirs to be stealthy, especially not when they were obligated to sit in the same class area as the person they were trying to avoid. Sure, most of Makoto's friends, having landed in other classes, separated from the group, but that didn't really make them less conspicuous.

The result was that, despite their efforts, Shuuichi spotted them with no difficulty at all, approaching them as they sat down.

Makoto immediately got up and ran to go to the "bathroom".

"Hi," he said friendlily, waving to them. "So I—"

"How the hell did you get into this school?" Chiaki asked, point-blank, icily.

Shuuichi blinked, taken aback.

"I, uh, well, I transferred in," he said, stuttering a little. "You know, I, uh, decided I should be more serious about my education, so I moved in with my relatives, who live just down the street, and, you know, that way, it's the same as if I moved from another city and I just had to take a test, which I studied hard for, and my parents didn't mind because—"

"Does this relative work in the school?" Yoshino asked, just as directly, figuring she might as well join in on this.

Shuuichi's eyes darted back and forth. He had no idea why he was being grilled so harshly.

"Well, yeah, he's one of the administrators, so, we asked a bit of a favor. I mean, this time, I managed to pass the grade-level adjusted test, so it's not like I cheated or anything. Just some bureaucratic stuff—"

"Is your education the real reason?" Touma asked. "It seems rather coincidental that—"

"Okay, fine!" Shuuichi said, rather loudly, breaking down far too easily. "You got me! That's just what I told my parents! I'm only here to follow that girl! I just figured, since it just happened to be between years…"

Next to Makoto's empty seat, two of his friends leaned over to look and listen, not even trying to hide it.

"We told you she's already taken," Chiaki said, not moderating her tone.

Touma tried to ignore Yoshino and Uchida raising their collective eyebrows behind her back.

"Well, yeah," Shuuichi said, looking away sheepishly. "But how much does that really matter, at our age? And I sort of want to see who this other guy is…"

His voice trailed off. He was sweating under their collective stares.

"And you know, the funny thing is," he continued nervously, talking just to fill the silence. "I can't even find her. No one I've talked to knows who she is, except for the people who think I'm calling Makoto by a cutesy nickname. Can you believe that? No one knows who Mako-chan is! I mean, things would have been easier if we were in the same class, but my relative already took the trouble to put us all together—or I assume he did, I didn't ask him to do that, by the way—but there's no way I could ask him—"

"Enough!" Touma exclaimed, exasperated, grabbing him by the arm. She eyed Uchida and Yoshino, the latter of whom was covering her mouth to stifle a laugh. Uchida still looked confused.

He looked at her.

"Please," she begged. "Stop talking! The more you talk, the deeper the hole you dig. You could have just kept your mouth shut! That's all you needed to do! You're making me feel sorry for you."

"Ah, well, I," Shuuichi began, before, finally, clamping his mouth shut.

A moment later, Uchida started laughing hysterically, having finally deduced what was going on. That broke the last of Yoshino's self-restraint, and the two of them collapsed onto each other in a shaking pile of uncontrollable laughter. Makoto's friends looked at them strangely, clearly wanting to ask what was going on, but not sure how to do so.

Shuuichi looked mortified.

"This is…priceless," Yoshino managed to force out, struggling to breath amidst fits of laughter.

_Okay, I can't let this go on_, Touma thought. _This ends now._

She opened her mouth, all set to give the proper cover story explanation, that Mako-chan was easily flustered, and what she had really meant was that she was their senpai, and that Mako-chan had in fact advanced to a high school and they didn't know which one.

Chiaki gave her a look.

"What?" Touma asked her. "Why not?"

Chiaki leaned over.

"Think about it," she whispered. "The kid is obviously desperately in love. He pulled out all the stops to get here, begged his parents, probably spent three days without sleeping studying for the dang test. Think about what would happen if you told him it was all for nothing. Let's not kill his dreams yet. Let him get frustrated first, looking for her, and then, ideally, we can get him to fall for someone else. That'd be the most painless solution"

"Are you sure?" Touma asked incredulously, blinking at her.

"That sounds way too complicated and underhanded," she said, whispering this time. "It could end badly."

"It'll end badly if you tell him to give up now," Chiaki said. "Do you want to spend the rest of the day seeing him mope about? I don't. But if we can get him to burn himself out, then we may never have to deal with a crisis like that."

"I begin to understand how Kana is your sister," Touma said.

"What are you two whispering about?" Shuuichi finally managed to work up the courage to ask. "What was so funny?"

Yoshino sat up, wiping tears from her eyes.

"Look, Shuuichi," she began. "The fact of the matter is—"

Chiaki grabbed Yoshino by the collar, but that turned out to be unnecessary, as the lights dimmed, and a teacher on-stage cleared his throat loudly into the microphone.

Shuuichi sat down hastily, still looking at them suspiciously.

For once, Touma was glad to hear the monotonic rhythm of their principal pontificating about education and proper development.

_Things are always so crazy_, she thought. _And life isn't easy, not easy at all._

She looked around, at Chiaki and Yoshino watching the stage with identical expressions of studious boredom, at Uchida with her expression of restless boredom, and at the tense-looking Makoto, who had finally returned from wherever he had gone, only to see his two friends staring at him, clearly having caught on to his convenient departure, and planning to question him intensely later.

The ride never stopped, she mused, but it was always fun. The key was to enjoy the ride.

Life will move on, the years will scroll by, and things will change.

But not everything. She was sure the speeches would remain the same at every ceremony. Uchida would always find something to complain about. Yoshino would always find something to make fun of her for. Chiaki would keep being annoyed by the smallest things. Makoto would always be nervous and paranoid about something. She would keep playing soccer. Most importantly, they would always support each other.

Some things never changed. Some things were indestructible

That was enough.


	14. Omake 1: Young Woman

_Author's note: I saved my most outlandish and original-ish stuff for the omake, which in this case has very little to do with the entire rest of story. In fact, it's pretty much its own story, a prequel to a later story. It also got really long, so I divided it into three chapters..._

* * *

"You're a bit young to be applying for a position like this, if you don't mind me saying so," the elderly man across from her said. Despite his obvious age, his voice and bearing was firm, and something about him suggested that it wasn't a good idea to cross him. His suit was pristine, and his posture ramrod straight.

She swallowed, as surreptitiously as possible. Despite the assurances she had been given, she had known this question was coming. She was not only young; she was nineteen, not even a legal adult. She had a lot of gall to be applying.

"Well, sir," she responded, leaning with her elbows onto the ancient-looking wooden table. "I know it's a lot of responsibility, but I believe I'm ready for it. I wouldn't disappoint you, sir."

_And I need the extra money_, she thought, keeping it from showing on her face. It was over several times her previous salary, generous even for the extra work she would be incurring—no, it was _extremely_ generous, better than some jobs university graduates were getting. With this job, her mother could finally stop working.

She had never complained about her situation. Not when she had been forced to opt out of high school and go straight to work. Not when she had had to deal with lecherous managers and rude customers in sidejob after sidejob. Not once. She didn't need to. She could see it in her parents' eyes, her father with the accident-paralyzed legs and the disability pension, her mother who, try as she did, couldn't get a job any better than her daughter. They were sorry for needing her to do this, but what could be done? They needed the money.

And it wasn't so bad, she thought. Switching into domestic service hadn't been too bad a choice. The family she had joined had been quite kind, and she was doing better than some of her former classmates. But still, she and her parents needed more.

_What am I doing zoning out like this?_ she thought, appalled that she had completely missed whatever her prospective employer was saying.

"—come with the highest of recommendations," the old man finished, watching her despite pretending to look over the twice-folded letters in his hand.

She couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that he knew she had stopped paying attention, and exactly why she had done so.

"But let's be frank," he continued, sternly. "You wouldn't have come here if you hadn't been assured by your previous employer that it would be more than a waste of time. Chief maidservant isn't usually a position granted to a 19-year-old."

She quavered at his voice.

"We—well, yes, but is—isn't it the case—"

_I'm losing it_, she thought.

Suddenly, the man's face broke into a friendly smile, giving it an entirely new kind of warmth. Her fear began to instantly dissolve.

"No need to be so nervous," he reassured. "The head butler there is an old friend of mine, and he is entirely correct. We _are_ seeking someone unusually young, only we can't quite say so to the agencies, because of discrimination policies and all that."

She let out a gust of breath as he sipped a bit of the tea that had been laid out in front of them.

"In fact," he continued, laying aside the files he transparently had not been reading. "I am highly impressed by what he told me. He credits you with saving an entire wing of the house—and more importantly, one of their family sons—with your leadership during an unfortunate recent fire. He praises your organized mind and says you are a favorite of the children and quite affectionate with them. Hardly typical fare for someone your age. But I must ask: why do you wish to leave, and come here?"

Despite what appeared to be her suddenly improved prospects, she swallowed again. Her voice was steadier this time, and she drank some of—rather strange tasting—tea to buy herself more time.

"Well, quite frankly, sir, they have fallen on rather hard times. They are forced to ask us to stay on half-salary, since they can't dismiss us without losing face. Even with their offer of a better position, it is simply not enough. I have parents—"

He held up a hand to stop her.

"You are honest. Good. I knew about this already. I was sad to hear that they were in such straits. After all…"

For the first time in this interview, he seemed to falter a little.

"Appearances are important," he finished, face inscrutable. But she thought he looked a little strange.

_Focus!_ She commanded herself.

"Allow me to be honest," he said. "Despite what you probably think, you have done quite well in this interview. Indeed, I am prepared to offer you the position here and now."

Her heart leapt into her mouth. She wanted to get up then and there and hug him, but of course that would be inappropriate.

A caveat suddenly nagged at her. He was right; she didn't think she had done well at all. She had come across as inexperienced and lacking confidence. Why was he…

Still…

"I'll gladly take it, sir, just—"

Again, he held up his hand.

"Don't agree before hearing what I have to say," he interrupted. "Now that we are this far along, I believe I am in a position to divulge a bit more about this position. You are surely curious why we are seeking someone young?"

She nodded. Of course she had wondered. She had had her misgivings, but they hadn't been enough to dissuade her from coming.

He nodded, reaching for the teapot, then frowned at the fact that it was almost empty. Neither of them had noticed him drink so much. He poured himself a cup nonetheless.

"Earl Grey," he said, by way of unnecessary apology. "I rather enjoy it."

"I see," she said blankly, not sure what to say.

The mechanical clock on the tome-laden shelf ticked softly as he drank.

"Moving on," he said, setting his drink aside. "It was bit misleading of me to describe the position in the ad as working for a married couple and their daughter. While this is technically true, the fact of the matter is that only the daughter is staying here."

She tilted her head in curiosity. This was the big secret?

She waited until a maid finished replacing the empty teapot and left the room before speaking again.

"Staying here to study in the academy while her parents work elsewhere, I presume?" she asked.

She was referring to the exclusive private school located only a few kilometers away.

The man cracked a slight smile.

"You have good instincts, to think of that as an explanation," he said. "And it's true enough, as far as it goes. The more salient point is that while the child has lived here her whole life, none of us have seen her parents since the week she was born."

She blinked.

"I see," she said, deliberately bleaching all evidence of a surprised reaction out of her expression.

_Poor girl._

She kept her thoughts to herself.

"A level head too," he added, looking her over one more time. "Yes, I think you'll do fine here."

"If you don't mind me asking," she questioned rather forwardly, trying to emphasize her enthusiasm for the position. "You implied that something you were about to say would make me reconsider taking this position. Nothing you have said fazes me in the least. I assume we'll have more authority than typical as staff, but that's fine."

She paused to think of something to add.

"I'm good with kids and I can easily be discreet," she added, though she had the feeling she was working a bit too hard at it now.

"Ah, yes, of course," the old man said, placing back down the teacup she hadn't noticed him pick up.

He took a deep breath and seemed to be searching for the proper words.

"To be perfectly frank, we don't have much need for a head maid. The household runs itself perfectly fine as it is, and if I really felt the need for some sort of new organizational level, I could easily promote someone already here. Several of them deserve it. The title you will receive isn't all that accurate as a description."

He stopped, seeming to regard his tea with his eyes.

"And, sir?" she cued a moment later, trying to deduce in her mind where he was trying to go with this.

He sighed, and for the first time in the conversation, he seemed _old_.

"I fired her nursemaid after only half a year," he said, not bothering or needing to clarify whom he was referring to by "her". "Her performance was decidedly unsatisfactory."

He sipped his tea, again, and it occurred to her that he was masking some degree of emotion.

"I thought that somehow, between all of us, we'd manage it. After all, most of us are at least partly live-in, and many of us have children of our own at home; there should be no shortage of experience and attention. The experience we had soured me on nursemaids, so I did not hire another. Perhaps that was a mistake."

"Are you saying there was something wrong with how it turned out?" she asked, perhaps more inquisitively than she should have. "It sounds like a reasonable arrangement."

The old butler shrugged.

"Perhaps. But who knows how the mind of a child works? In truth, I fear we've failed miserably. You'll see soon what I mean."

She wanted to ask him to elaborate, but he didn't look like he wanted to.

He stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"I thought we needed perhaps some fresh blood, someone with no relationships to tie them down, someone who could devote all her time to the girl, someone young enough to be willing to invest years of her life into the project, young enough to shoulder the load, and, just as important, young enough to shake us old fools out of the stupor we've settled into."

A lightbulb went on in her head.

"You want me to be her _mother_!" she blurted out, interrupting his explanation.

She had wanted to word it slightly better, but the words were out and could not be taken back.

"In roughly that sense, if you must put it so bluntly," he said, looking uncomfortable. "It is exactly as I said. Practically speaking, there are no formal restrictions on what you can do, but I do expect you to take the role seriously. Get a boyfriend if you want, but it _cannot_ be more important than this. And while I won't word it into the contract, I will want your word that you are willing to stay until she is at least twenty."

The look on her face must have been one to behold.

"How old is she?" she asked.

"This very day is, in fact, her fifth birthday."

"That's fifteen years from now!" she said.

"Yes," he said. "You would be thirty-four at the end and, if I may make a bold prediction, in possession of a lifetime emotional obligation. Her parents cared just enough to sire an heir, but not one iota beyond that. I daresay you will never see them. Perhaps you may receive vague instructions every couple of years, but I doubt even that."

Despite her shock, the sheer amount of information he was dumping on her, and the amount of processing her brain was attempting to perform, she still noticed the escalating levels of anger in his last few sentences, until he was practically spitting out the words.

She was aware her mouth may have been hanging slightly open.

"I think you understand now why I'm offering the salary I am," he said, cooling off slightly, trying to be as businesslike as possible for something like this. "I understand why a young woman wouldn't want to watch the best years of her life go by like that, but keep in mind that in the later years it probably would be fine for you to go out a bit more, and perhaps even to marry. I'm not trying to tie you down; all I want is a commitment to the child."

She just stared at him rather stupidly.

"If you were to refuse," he added, seeing that she wasn't going to say anything, "I would understand, but it would be unfortunate. You are the perfect candidate. If you want some time to think about it, that would of course be fine also."

He waited a moment. When she still didn't answer, he pulled open a drawer next to him and pulled out a small object.

"Here," he said, handing her a portrait and looking at her expectantly. "Her name's written on the corner."

She looked down at the eight-by-five Polaroid, at the cropped-hair toddler looking up into the camera, almost forlornly. She was holding a small plastic shovel, but it wasn't clear why from the picture.

Something about it moved her.

_Goddamn it, I'm such a sucker for children._

She shook her head to clear it. What could he have possibly meant by saying that they might have _failed_?

She needed the money…

_I'm crazy for even considering this!_

_It's not like I have anything going on. Let's be honest; I would probably spend those thirteen years cooped up working anyway._

She swallowed one last time.

"I—I want a few days to think to think about it. But…can I meet her?"

The old man smiled, nodding.

"Of course. It's not a coincidence I scheduled this interview for her fifth birthday. Festivities begin in a half-hour or so. Come on, let me show you around and introduce you to the others."

* * *

She discovered rather quickly why the other servants thought they had failed.

The party was a small, intimate affair, suitable for a small child's birthday party. Or rather, suitable because the party involved no one but the child in question and the servants of the rather small household. Not one other child attended.

That in itself was not too remarkable. She was presumably rather sheltered, and it seemed highly unlikely she ever ventured outside the grounds. There was no apparent avenue by which she could have met any of her peers.

She made a mental note about that.

She only realized what was really unusual late in the party, after the presents had been given, as one of the other servants performed a series of magic tricks. No matter what he did, he failed to elicit any response from the girl other than polite, impassive watching. Suddenly, she realized why she had felt so uneasy the whole time.

_She hasn't said a single word the whole party!_

Not a sound the whole hour. Not when the old man had introduced her, though she had chalked up the girl's lack of reaction to shyness. Not when one of the maids had insisted on picking her up and swinging her around in the kind of circles that would have had most toddlers squealing. Not when the cook had, with much pomp and ceremony, brought out an elaborately arranged chocolate cake he clearly considered the pièce de résistance of the meal. The overweight man had obviously been proud of his work, rubbing his hands and making sure to remind everyone that chocolate was apparently her favorite—they weren't sure, which alone spoke volumes—but the girl had merely nodded, looking at the cake. That apparently counted as a sign of great approval, since everyone seemed delighted.

Everything was conveyed with nods, headshakes, or, occasionally, tiny changes in facial expression.

The realization was so dramatic that she felt compelled to lean over and nudge the man next to her, who stood out from the crowd by simply appearing to be under thirty, despite the moustache he chose to sport. He turned his head to look at her.

"Is she…" she began to ask, but, stymied by a sudden ambivalence about how to ask, pointed at her own mouth vaguely.

"Ah, no, she is not mute," he responded, surprisingly catching her meaning, and not seeming offended.

"The old man thought so too," he added elaborately, leaning over and whispering. "Back when the young mistress here was younger, he had her tested. I don't know how they got her to say anything, but there's nothing wrong with her, so far as anyone can tell. She just doesn't like talking."

"I see," she said, making sure to show her gratitude for the answer. She refrained from saying anything else, however.

That concurred with her own observations. The overall impression she had obtained so far was of an entire household trying desperately to get the girl to show some emotion, act a little more normal.

The old man clanged a spoon on his glass of sake to gather their attention, and they sang the "Happy Birthday" song. This time, she looked across the table, and caught the girl looking at her curiously, head tilted. Noticing her looking back, the girl quickly looked away.

_So, she noticed me after all._

Afterwards, somewhat to her surprise, the girl got up on cue and blew out the five candles, their colors matching the cake's color scheme and embedded at the five corners of a pentagram, one of the butlers snapping a serious of pictures to make sure he got the moment, shutter clicking.

To her even greater surprise, the girl immediately jumped onto her chair, picked up the knife at the side and began carefully carving the cake into evenly-sized pieces.

She had already started to reach out at the sight of a child with a large knife, but the man next to her held her back.

"She insisted on it last year too," he said. "We don't know why she cares so much, but you can't talk her out of it. Don't worry, she won't hurt herself. She's remarkably well-coordinated."

Collecting her piece of the cake, she realized that the cake had been cut into exactly as many pieces as there were people, and that the distribution of various "goodies"—strawberries, chocolate pieces, sugar flowers—was also roughly equitable, except that the girl herself had gotten perhaps a bit more. It bespoke a certain amount of thought, not something you'd expect from a newly anointed five-year-old.

She decided to go for it.

"Hello," she said sweetly, walking up and bending down to be at eye level with her. "I'm new here. What's your name?"

For several long seconds, the girl stared back, eyes wide, spoon frozen in position. Silence fell around her as everyone turned to look.

The girl turned her head slightly, looking up at the old man.

"Ah, well," he said, discomfited, partly by the fact that he was certain he had already told her the name. "It's uh—"

She held up her hand in a gesture of silence. She wanted the girl to say it.

The girl looked back at her, then away, then back again.

Silence reigned for a long moment.

"I—it's Yoshino," the girl conceded, finally, eyes darting around. She noticed, of course, that even then the girl had avoided fully answering the question by not giving her full name. Everyone in the room let out a breath.

"Thank you," she said, standing back up, and looking down at Yoshino, the girl in the white dress someone had carefully picked out for her, and who was looking back at her as if she were some sort of exotic animal.

_She's rather cute_, she decided.

And then she made the decision she known was coming.

_I'll do this. I'll take this job. And from now on, things are going to change._

By that night, when she outlined her ideas and observations for the old man, she had already developed a good operating plan, whose elements she ticked off mentally as she spoke.

* * *

First, she indicated, it would not do for the girl to be so persistently isolated from other children her age. In a year or so, the necessity of going to school would automatically deal with that, but in the meantime, it could not hurt to make a few efforts in that direction. For instance, she did not see why the servants could not have brought some of their younger children to the party as well. So, item one: try to encourage interaction with the children who lived farther down the hill, despite the disparity in social class—she had learned from experience that servants were often more arrogant about this than the actual people involved, but who else was there?. In addition, more trips to the pool and to local parks. It would do her good to spend some time outside the mansion grounds, anyway.

Second, Yoshino simply must be encouraged to speak. That level of subdued silence was simply not healthy, psychosocially. Perhaps it was adequate for now, but it could not fail to redound to her detriment later.

"But how?" the old man asked, tapping his pen on the sheet of paper where he was taking notes in meticulous, old-fashioned handwriting. "Will you force her to it?"

"I don't know," she answered honestly, reasoning it out verbally. "I don't think punishments are a good idea; they might make her even more reluctant to talk the rest of the time. I think we should be more subtle, ask her questions she can't answer by nodding or pointing."

She paused to collect her ideas.

"For instance," she continued, "we can offer her ice cream for a snack and ask her what flavor she wants. The key is not to give up until she gives some sort of answer. We just need to get her used to it. The rest will follow later. I don't think negative reinforcement is the way to go, not for this."

The man nodded, continued to write.

"Is that all?" he asked, when he finished, looking up.

"Well, I was also thinking we should try to find her a hobby," she said. "Something to channel her energy into, and maybe help her to meet others."

She had thought of this idea after viewing Yoshino's performance with the cake. There was definitely potential there. It just needed to be focused into something other than cake carving.

The man nodded thoughtfully, writing this down also.

Suddenly, with a wide flourish of careful calligraphy, he signed the sheet of paper. Squinting, she noticed a dotted line.

He flipped it over to reveal that the other side was covered in close-set, legal-format text.

"Your employment contract; you can read through it, it's all there," he said. "I've got other forms, for the other legal stuff, but this is the most important. The back side details your goals for the year, until we renew it. It's not binding, just a reminder."

She boggled at the surprise, barely digesting the legalistic language about salary, responsibilities, and conditions of discharge or departure. Not for the first time, she thought that the old man had a certain…strange way of doing and thinking about things.

_Eccentric_, she thought, _but there's nothing harmful about it._

She flipped the sheet of paper over, read through the neat handwriting briefly, and appended her signature at the remaining spot on the bottom.

She handed the form back, and the man filed it into one of the folders on the desk.

Now, naturally," he said, "you probably plan to go back and pack before moving here, perhaps, two days from now?"

"That's a bit sudden," she said. "But they already know I'm leaving, so it should be doable."

She understood why he wanted to rush, so she gave him a bit of leeway. Plus, a good part of her wanted to get started.

"It's late," he added. "If you want, we can show you to your room and you can stay the night. Purely as a matter of convenience. I'm sure someone has some clothes they can lend you to wear."

She thought about it.

"I suppose. It _would_ be helpful. Thanks for the hospitality."

"Nothing to it," he responded politely. "Now let's work our way through the rest of these forms…"

* * *

After taking a shower in the bathroom attached to her room, she took the liberty of stepping outside and exploring a little. She chatted with the man she had met earlier, who explained that his name was Arisawa, and that he had been hired only a year ago as Yoshino's chauffeur and that so far, quite frankly, he wasn't really earning his salary at all.

_Well, that will change soon enough_, she thought.

After asking him for directions, she bid him farewell and descended down the hallway to the room with a door just a little larger than the rest.

She had intended to just learn where the girl's room was, but, acting on pure impulse, she decided to look in a little.

To her surprise, the girl was still awake, reading. Yoshino looked up at her door opening and recoiled, either nervous or frightened, clutching her book, huddled near the sidelamp next to her greatly over-sized bed.

_It'd do me no good to leave now_, she thought.

"No, don't be worried," she said soothingly. "I'm just here to visit."

The girl relaxed only slightly, holding up her book as if she wanted to hide behind it, eyes tracking her warily as she walked over to occupy a chair conveniently near the bed.

"I'm new here," she said, carefully. "I'm only here to chat. Arisawa was new here last year too, right? You got used to him."

Yoshino nodded slowly, relaxing enough to drop the book down halfway.

What they both knew, of course, was that Arisawa had kept his distance. She wasn't keeping her distance.

"So what are you reading?" she asked casually, even though she could clearly see the title of the translated story collection emblazoned on the book spine. Judging by the age and style of the book, it came from the same source as the books stacked on the shelves in the old man's room.

To her surprise, the girl quickly turned the book around so she could see it, pointing to the title of the story with the finger of the hand holding the book.

"Ah, 'A Study in Scarlet'," she said, nodding. "The first one."

They watched other for a moment. She took the time to think through her next question.

"So have you read it before?" she asked, seeking an opening into the girl's thought patterns.

After a second, the girl nodded, bangs waving slightly.

She archived the fact for future reference.

"So what do you like about it?" she asked, skipping the obvious question about whether or not she found it interesting.

She didn't even expect her to answer without significant prodding, so it surprised her when Yoshino explained, with a surprisingly eloquent voice:

"I like the way the detective thinks. It's…refreshing."

The words sounded so strange coming from a child that she instantly looked up, and found the girl avoiding her eyes, instead looking forward...at something, at the middle distance, she decided. What was Yoshino thinking about?

Now wasn't the time to push it, she decided.

She waited for the girl to blink and look back at her again. Again, Yoshino's face didn't show too much, but she was sure the girl wanted to get back to the book. She imagined that she could see a slight hint of impatience in those dark eyes.

_One more gambit_, she decided.

"Do you want me to read it to you?" she asked, as cheerfully as she could.

Yoshino looked at her with a confused expression.

"It'll be fun?" she added, as way of botched explanation. She wondered if the girl even understood what she was suggesting.

_I really hope I'm actually good at story-reading_, she thought suddenly.

After what appeared to be some thought, the girl started to nod, then immediately broke off and shook her head vigorously, short hair shifting.

"I'm fine," Yoshino said, volunteering the words.

"I don't mind," she said. "Really. I'd love to."

The girl looked at her, and she almost thought she could detect something in those pupils…

The sensation of the book being pushed into her hands broke the spell.

"Ah, well, yes," she said, ruffled, and cleared her throat. "I'm not sure how far you were, but do you mind if I start over?"

Yoshino shook her head.

"Alright then, uh…"

She took a deep breath.

_Here goes nothing_.

"A Study in Scarlet. A reprint of the reminiscences of John H. Watson, physician, recently…"

* * *

She quickly became both very thirsty and very raspy. She had forgotten just how long the story was, how much extra material it had compared to the other stories, and how reading out loud was inherently much slower than reading to oneself, especially when she felt obligated to try to create different voices for the various characters.

But it was worth it, to see Yoshino looking back at her with that disturbingly unerring stare, and to see her crack occasional hints of a smile at her bad voice acting, some of the more humorous lines in the story, and also at plenty of lines which weren't humorous at all, which was rather strange.

When Yoshino began to blink hard after the _Rache_ scene, trying to keep awake, she suggested that, perhaps, it was time to sleep. The girl agreed by nodding, but seemed to lie down only reluctantly—before falling instantly asleep.

Before she turned off the lights, she took a moment to watch the tiny, frail girl in her silk nightdress, breathing lightly into her pillow, and felt the first stirrings of a deeper affection.

_I'm losing my detachment_, she thought.

Well, that was probably a good thing.

She remembered the anger the old man had shown when talking about her parents and she began to feel the anger, too.

_How could they?_ she thought pithily.

She turned the light off.

She had made more progress in one day than she had dared hope, but there was still much to do.

Also, she desperately needed some water.

* * *

In the hallway, she ran into the old man, who she was sure had no legitimate reason to be there.

He bowed slightly and bid her good night.

* * *

She learned two things that week.

One was that everyone, absolutely everyone, except the man himself, called the head servant "old man", though no one called him that to his face.

The other was that he didn't believe in alarm clocks.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" she yelled back at the loud, insistent knock to her door, a lot more cross than she should have been.

The old man opened the door and stuck his head in.

"Ah, sorry," he said. "Old habit. I usually just walk down the hall and do this to all the servants' doors. After you start—well, you're not required to get up at this time. I would just prefer it. Do you want me to wake you in the future?"

She blearily looked at the clock, then at his face. The old bastard wasn't sorry at all.

"Maybe," she said, "but not today."

She dove back into her pillow.

* * *

It took four days—not including the days she spent packing—to finish "A Study in Scarlet". It had helped considerably that, on the day when she should have started the long flashback interlude in the middle, Yoshino handed her the book with the pages flipped entirely past that segment, indicating by repeated pointing that she wanted to skip it.

She wondered just what it was about the story that appealed to her. What had she meant when she said that she liked the way Holmes thought?

Of course, when she finally finished, struggling through the untranslated Latin quote at the very end, the girl wanted her to dive right into the next story. She wasn't surprised, but wondered if she would eventually be required to traverse the entire canon, or if Yoshino would finally tire of Holmes.

She doubted it, and hoped not. She was rather proud of the Watson and Holmes voices she had developed, despite not exactly being the right gender for the roles.

It wasn't so bad. She could use it as an excuse to keep the old man from waking her in the morning.

The girl had accepted her constant presence, but did not seem to ascribe much significance to it, thinking of her mostly as strange woman who followed her everywhere, serving as a convenient source of snacks, source of entertainment, or object to hide behind, depending on the situation. She spent quite a lot of time carrying jackets, asking the cook to make snacks—"Something healthy, and I'm telling you, you don't have to make _everything _absurdly elaborate. And also, some of that weird tea she likes."—, or keeping the freezer door with its ice cream forcibly sealed whenever Yoshino tried to open it, the others being far too coddling of her. The girl probably didn't think of this last part as very convenient, and made her feelings known with insistent tugs at her arm.

_I feel like a mother already_, she had thought sardonically, on at least one such occasion.

It was a constant struggle to get Yoshino to _say_ anything, necessitating constant wheedling, bribes, and threats not to get the book the girl wanted off the top shelf. Yoshino simply didn't speak on her own initiative, and she couldn't understand why.

She devoted much of her first month to simple observation, and what she saw mystified her.

The girl played a lot of games with herself, which was a logical result of her isolation, but the games were incomprehensible. Hiding things all around the building, arranging blocks in mysterious patterns, digging holes in the grass. Occasionally, she was able to convince her to play a more conventional two-person game, but far more often her suggestions would be shrugged off, as Yoshino returned to whatever abstruse activity she was currently engaged in. The girl never explained any of it, of course, but she was convinced there was some secret logic to most of them.

_Am I just thinking too hard?_

Even Yoshino's computer usage was strange. Though she wasn't a believer in allowing children such early access to electronics, the girl's room held a ridiculously powerful model, which she was not incapable of using. But while Yoshino rarely showed much interest in it, the girl did occasionally use it, ignoring all the educational games some unknown servant had loaded onto it in favor of spending prodigious amounts of time reading news and magazine articles. It wasn't the ideal activity for her to be engaged it, but she could hardly disapprove of an activity which seemed vaguely like learning.

She didn't leave the old man off-the-hook, not in her own thoughts at least. Why had it taken five years for the girl to be assigned a personal servant? It didn't need something as elaborate as a surrogate "mother"; simply someone who could play with her would suffice. There was eccentricity, and there was insanity.

She got part of her answer late in the first month, when she caught him giving her a large piece of chocolate.

It was a moment before he, watching the girl eat with obvious pleasure on both their faces, noticed her watching them. When he looked up, she couldn't suppress a teasing smile.

"Ah, yes, well," he said, clearing his throat, obviously embarrassed. "Carry on then."

As he was in the process of walking by her, fleeing the room, he stopped abruptly.

She turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow.

He sighed.

"Actually, you should probably know," he said, only partially looking back at her. "I was the one who used to do most of the caring for her, you know, the feeding and jackets and such. But I'm convinced now that I really had no idea what I was doing. You seem so much more natural at it; I never really connected with her."

Without giving her a chance to say anything, he walked on. Yoshino stared at them with big eyes.

_But I'm not connecting with her either_, she thought.

* * *

It was another month before she dared take Yoshino down the hill.

It didn't go well. True, she hadn't really expected her to blend in with the other children on her own initiative, but she certainly had hoped the girl would do more than position herself persistently and immovably behind her legs, especially not after she took the trouble of dressing her, bringing her down here, and dragging her out of the car.

"Come on," she urged. "There's nothing to be afraid of."

The girl, now in more normal—and sturdy—clothing specially purchased for the occasion, just shook her head vigorously and clung to her dress.

The other children, a group she had found playing impromptu soccer on a grass field near the road, had paused to watch the tableau. To their credit, they were generally encouraging, and two girls even came up to talk to Yoshino point-blank, but the girl didn't even look at them, performing the classic maneuver of hiding her face within her dress.

She kept trying, but it quickly became clear that nothing short of physical force would dislodge her. And that was too much.

Resignedly, she apologized to the group, feeling strangely embarrassed, considering she was talking to a group which averaged seven years in age, and walked Yoshino back to the discreetly hidden car. She wasn't angry, not really. She was frustrated, and it didn't help that Yoshino kept looking at her with piteous eyes, as if to ask "Why would you subject me to that?"

No, she was doing this wrong. It was a bad plan to start with. She needed to start smaller…

"No, that won't work," one of the maids—the one responsible for cleaning the front rooms —informed her, after she had revealed the idea while letting off steam.

"Why not?" she asked. She had thought it was a perfectly good idea.

"We tried it before you got here," the maid informed her, dusting one of the wooden cabinets. "We brought Nakanawa's kid here. Might have worked, too, but we hadn't counted on him being such a brat. She wouldn't talk to anyone else we brought after that, especially not after the fourth one was even worse…"

The maid crouched down to wipe one of the lower shelves, and thus missed seeing her make a gesture of despair.

"Anyway, you should have seen Nakanawa after that," the woman continued. "Kept apologizing and swore she would ground the kid for a week. You still can't talk to her about it."

Nakanawa was the one who had insisted on swinging Yoshino around at the party, if she remembered correctly.

She sighed.

"I don't suppose it might work now, after all these years?" she asked hopelessly.

"After seeing how what you tried worked out, no," the maid said, standing up.

"I thought so."

The week after that, she had Arisawa drive the extensive distance to a regional pool—she had to buy a swimsuit for Yoshino, too, since the kid apparently never went outside. She proved surprisingly tolerant of the water, given that it was her first time.

A group of children next to them were batting a beach ball back and forth in the shallow zone. After Yoshino deftly volleyed several stray shots back, she suggested she join them. To her surprise, Yoshino nodded, pool-walked over, and silently joined them, ignoring their questions and confining her involvement to smacking back everything that came her way. It was progress, painfully-bought progress.

Soon, though, the rest of the group got tired of the beach ball and started a splash fight. Yoshino evacuated the area immediately, apparently not enjoying it at all.

Still, though, she bought the girl an ice cream cone afterwards. She was sure Yoshino had no idea what had prompted such random generosity.

* * *

The first real breakthrough came unexpectedly, and much later, during an impromptu meeting held in the old man's office.

They were discussing Yoshino, of course, but this time the girl herself was in attendance, sucking tea through a bendy-straw, which was her current preferred method of consumption.

Personally, she still wasn't used to its flavor, but she was glad for its warmth in her hands. It was often chilly up on the hill, but the season didn't yet justify turning on the central heating.

They spoke freely, despite Yoshino looking back and forth at them with large eyes, apparently trying to listen in. She had no idea if the girl was internalizing what they said.

The girl's expressions had gotten steadily more expressive over time, or so it seemed to her. Honestly, though, she wasn't sure if this was her hard work, the girl getting more used to her, or simply a function of increasing age.

"It seems you're making good progress," the old man commented, speaking over the music emanating from the CD player in the corner, one of his few concessions to modernity. It was one of those sickeningly sweet pop bands he liked, and she could only conclude he had horrible taste, though she would never say so to his face.

"Not good enough," she responded, modestly but truthfully. "She'll be starting school soon. I worry she won't be able to handle the number of people she'll come in contact with."

The old man sighed, setting aside his tea.

"I know," he said. "But we still have some time. And if we're lucky, school might be just the thing. Trial by fire, and all that."

She shook her head at the notion.

"I'd feel more secure if that weren't necessary."

The old man made a gesture with his hands. "What choice do we have?" it seemed to say.

"So would I," he conceded. "But I guess there's always home-schooling. We could hire someone."

"What kind of heir for the family would we be raising then?" she asked, knowing he didn't really place any stock in the idea.

He twisted his lip, just slightly. She knew what they were both thinking: her parents didn't seem to care a whit about the welfare of their nominal "heir". Just as the old man had predicted, they hadn't heard a word yet from either of them.

The moments that followed would imprint themselves on her memory for a long time. As she and the old man sat silently, thinking of something further to say, the CD player switched from pop music to something else the old man was a fan of: ponderous foreign classical music. In this case, it was Bach's Violin Concerto in A Minor.

Yoshino, who up till then had been looking rather sleepy, titled her head in confusion.

"So I suppose that's it, then," the old man said, looking mildly bemused for some reason she couldn't discern.

"Yes," she sighed, leaning on her arm, not having realized the significant of the girl's reaction. "It's almost her bedtime anyway. We're almost to Reichenbach Falls, and I know she's excited to get there."

She, too, was excited. More than she cared to admit.

"Come on, let's go," she said, getting up and turning her head to look at Yoshino—and found her, straw still in mouth, staring at the CD player in complete fascination.

The old man turned to look too.

"What? What is it?" he asked of the girl. Yoshino didn't respond.

It was then that she had a stunning flash of insight, an epiphany of sorts. She suppressed her stunned reactions and bent down to address Yoshino.

"Do you like this song?" she asked.

Slowly, the girl nodded, still enraptured.

"Would you like it if we set up a player in your room too?" she asked sweetly. "We could make CD's and fill them with songs like this!"

Yoshino turned her head, eyes wide, as if she hadn't imagined such a thing was possible. The old man turned his head back and forth to look at the two of them.

She took a breath.

"Would you like to learn to make music like this? It's a violin piece. Do you want to learn the violin? We could buy you one and get you a teacher."

The girl opened her mouth, the straw falling out. She held that pose for a moment.

She was elated to see Yoshino nod, slowly.

But it was her turn to be shocked.

"Yes," Yoshino said. "I'd love to. I've never heard anything like it. So complex… I like it."

* * *

"Damn it, old man!" she complained afterwards, mock angry. "All these years, and you just had to play one of your songs!"

"How the heck was I supposed to know?" he asked, indignant, but flustered enough to ignore what she called him. "I thought that kind of music was out of fashion with you young folks! I mean, no one else here likes it, so I only play it when I'm alone. I must have mixed up the songs when I was making that CD…"

"Serendipitous," she commented.

* * *

"She's quite talented for her age," the elderly violin teacher commented at the end of his third visit, looking pleased with himself.

"I'm glad to hear that," she said noncommittally. It could just be run-of-the-mill flattery to butter her up. Although, to be honest, she didn't think so.

In the background, Yoshino frowned at the sheet music in front of her, carefully producing the requisite notes on her brand new violin, which was so relatively large and heavy that she had difficulty holding it up. But that, of course, would stop being an issue with age.

She was no judge of this instrument, and had certainly never watched a child try to learn it, but the simple song she was playing already sounded remarkably melodious, if a little uneven.

"I'm quite serious," the man said, turning to look at the girl in question—rather slowly, due to his age and the slight hump in his back. "With most students her age, I'd still be having trouble with the basic notes and sheet music reading. But look at her—I'm already starting chords."

He paused a moment to consider.

"But is she always so quiet?" he asked. "I don't think I've heard more than two words from her since I started here."

"Well, she's always been intelligent," she commented, dodging the question. She didn't have any real evidence regarding Yoshino's intelligence, of course, but it was a feeling she had. All that book-reading had to go somewhere…

"I foresee a bright future for her," he added, looking at her out of the corner of his eye, behind his reading glasses. "If you're interested, there's competitions she can go to, when she's a little older. She'll do well. I can start some of the paperwork now."

She thought about it. Well, why not? It might give her something to be proud of.

"That'd be nice—" she began.

They both cringed at the loud wail of a poorly played note, and instinctively looked at Yoshino.

Yoshino, looking back, shook her head vigorously, rocking the instrument back and forth. Her dress fluttered around her ankles in sympathy.

The teacher blinked at the girl for a moment.

"Well, why not?" he asked, genuinely mystified, clearly having never seem so direct a refusal.

She too looked at Yoshino with surprise. Something about the look on her face…

The man looked at her, eyebrow raised. After a moment, she shook her head.

"We'll think about it," she said firmly. "It's still way too early. We don't have to decide now."

"I suppose," the man said, still looking a little befuddled. "It'd be a waste if she didn't, though."

"Well, maybe she'll change her mind later," she said, making it clear with her tone that it wasn't up for further discussion.

After a moment, the elderly man shrugged.

"Fair enough. It's about the love of the music, after all."

He paused.

"It would probably be nice for my reputation, though," he said, chuckling good-naturedly, indicating with his body language that he was joking, but not entirely.

They watched Yoshino start practicing again.

* * *

A month later, she took a rare trip home to visit her parents. Only a couple of days, but she surprised herself by how much she thought about the girl she had left behind.

She returned bearing gifts, a set of music CD's she had carefully selected at the store. The girl stood just inside the doorway, glaringly at her accusingly.

The old man showed up a moment later and patted Yoshino on the head, looking down.

"You know, she came running over here to see you," he said, smiling. "She even abandoned our game to do it. I'm rather hurt."

"Game?" she asked, tilting her head queryingly.

Chess, apparently, the European kind.

She was intrigued enough that she asked Nakanawa a favor—"Please, could you unpack my bags for me? It's important."—and sat down on a chair near the two of them. She watched as the old man, not surprisingly, annihilated Yoshino's position with ease.

After a particularly devastating move, Yoshino made a deeply unhappy face.

"It's an elementary trap, and one I've already explained" the old man said pedantically. "It's not always the piece that moves that does the checking."

The girl looked up at him, face quite annoyed.

_Her face really is getting more expressive_, she thought.

"Well, you certainly won't make that mistake again, now will you?" he asked.

"No, I won't," Yoshino said, getting up and storming back to her room in a huff.

She watched the girl go, amazed. That was the most emotional reactions she had ever seen out of her at once.

"Couldn't you go a little easier on her?" she asked the old man once the girl was out of earshot, turning back to face the board.

"Oh, she'll be fine," he said, looking quite self-satisfied, making a dismissive hand gesture. "She'll come back later and pound the table to demand a rematch. To be honest, I'm quite happy. I haven't gotten as many reactions out of her in 5 years as I've got in the three days since I thought to get out the ol' chessboard. It was your violin thing that gave me the idea."

_So the old man isn't useless after all_, she thought. In fact, she was quite pleased with him. But…

"So this is how you get your kicks, huh?" she asked, needling him. "Beating up on 5-year-old girls."

"You know very well that's unfair," he protested, indignant. "Besides, I'm also teaching her. The amazing thing is, she really does get better each time."

He looked thoughtful for a moment.

"So why chess?" she asked.

"Hmm?" the old man responded, not quite understanding, still lost in his thoughts.

"Why chess?" she asked. "Why not shoji, or go, or cards, or dominoes?"

"Well, it's the only one I can really teach her," the old man said, blinking. "Sure, I could have taught her shoji, and she would have been as good as me in five games."

"That would have been fairer," she pointed out.

"What, do you want her to suck?" he asked, using a little of the young-people jargon.

* * *

For Christmas, she gave Yoshino her own set of _The Complete Sherlock Holmes_. For this, she received an impromptu hug, which left her feeling giddy for hours.

It was a pretty lonely time at the house, since all the staff with significant family had redeemed their vacation days and gone home. Those with boyfriends or girlfriends did too. It wasn't a major holiday, not really, but she was sure it got lonely not seeing your family at all for half the week, so she understood.

She herself phoned home and talked with her parents. Yes she was doing fine. Yes, she too was glad that her mother didn't have to work anymore. Yes she'd visit to see the new decorations around the house. She was sorry for not going home that year; she felt she had a duty to stay with the girl. Yes, she agreed that Yoshino was a cute girl—they knew what she was doing, and she had given them a picture of the house, some of the servants, Yoshino…—And yes, yes, a boyfriend. She'd get right on getting one of those.

Those lonely souls who stayed held a small gathering in the dining room. She was underage, so she avoided the drinks, though she doubted anyone would have cared. Some of the others got a little tipsy, but they all had enough discipline not to get drunk. It helped that the old man and cook conspired to keep the more inebriated ones away from the sake and wine bottles.

For her part, she sat and brushed Yoshino's hair, even though it didn't really need it. When she was only half done, Yoshino got restless, trying to go back to her room. She relented and together, they walked down to her room at the beginning of the hall.

To her surprise, what Yoshino apparently wanted was an impromptu practice session with her violin. The girl went straight for the case, and she didn't stop her. Instead, she sat down on the bed and paid attention.

She watched as the girl pulled the instrument out of the case, placed it on her shoulder, just a little unsteadily, and started playing.

Over the months Yoshino had gained considerably in skill, at least to her untutored ear. She could now play even moderately complex pieces quite fluently, and hardly ever tripped on the chords. It was perhaps not too surprising; the girl was in love with the instrument, and played it for hours at a time without being told. Still, though, the old teacher called her progress phenomenal.

"It sounds cliché," he had said, nodding to himself. "But it's true. She plays with feeling. That's hard to get out of even the most technically proficient students. I tell you, she'll go far."

She listened, and what he said was even truer than usual. Yoshino was playing a sad piece—an unusual piece for the teacher to have given a child, and one she had never heard before—and despite the rare missed notes, it was absolutely spellbinding…

…she blinked in surprise when the girl stopped and began to pack the instrument in. It took a long moment to clear her mind and recover her bearings.

"Why don't you go outside and play for all of us?" she suggested, finally. "I'm sure—"

Yoshino shook her head vigorously, frowning at the strings of her bow. No.

It turned out to be unnecessary. When they walked back out to the dining hall, it was strangely quiet, only a few whispered conversations going on in the corners. It was then that she realized that she hadn't closed the door to Yoshino's room.

The old man cleared his throat, stirring the others back awake.

He raised his glass in a toast.

"To a fantastic piece of music, and the girl who, in one way or another, is the reason we are all here."

They drank.

She had thought Arisawa was drunk at first, given the unsteady and unsure manner in which he had approached her in the hallway. But looking at him carefully, she realized he wasn't _that_ drunk, at least not enough to explain the gait.

"I know you've got a lot going on," he said, voice surprisingly stable. "And you have to take care of the young mistress. And I know I'm a bit old. But I'm—"

She knew what he was going to say, had sensed it for a while.

She put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

"I know," she said. "And I'm sorry. But not now. Maybe someday. But I can't have this now."

He nodded and swallowed, moustache bobbing,

* * *

That night, she was awoken by the sound of her door opening.

"Goddamn it, old man!" she mumbled loudly. "I thought we had an agreement—"

Then she looked up, having realized that the old man wouldn't open her door without knocking.

It was dark, but it was easy to tell who stood in the doorway. No one else in the house was that short.

"What's wrong?" she asked, instantly awake, fumbling for the lamp switch and hastily starting to push herself out of bed. "Is something wrong?"

"I can't sleep," Yoshino said quietly, closing the door behind her and walking forward. The girl was carrying a pillow, she realized.

"Oh, would you like to—ah—," she asked unnecessarily, flummoxed, but before she could finish, the girl threw the pillow to the headboard and started the process of climbing over her to the other side of the bed.

"Ah, well, you're always welcome, you know," she said, again unnecessarily.

After a moment watching Yoshino lie down on the bed, she was finally able to think, but still not clearly.

Yoshino stared up at her from her pillow.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, a third time.

The girl shook her head slightly, oscillations absorbed by the bed.

"I can't sleep," she repeated.

She looked at Yoshino for a long moment.

Finally, she nodded, and turned off the light, lying down. She turned to look at Yoshino. The girl looked back.

Suddenly, the girl buried her head in her chest. She wanted comfort.

Not sure what else to do, she reached out and cradled the girl, holding her close, trying to be reassuring, wondering what was going on. The girl had never before behaved in a way even remotely resembling this.

She wasn't sure how long they held that position before she finally felt Yoshino move. She started to let go, opening her mouth to say something, ask some questions, but then her ears caught a faint hint of speech, barely audible even in the utter silence, but which struck her silent nonetheless.

"I love you, mother. I love you. Don't you know that?"

The girl fell asleep in her arms, but she remained awake long after that.


	15. Omake 2: Old Man

Yoshino's sixth birthday arrived almost before she knew it.

She and the old man collaborated to buy her a stained glass chess set, using house funds. Vibrant, transparent, and colored-coded, with "black" visibly darker than "white", it was far more than she could reasonably buy herself, but she had seen it in a catalog and knew it was perfect. It also wasn't quite as overwhelming as the one that was rubies vs. emeralds. They'd just have to be careful about breaking it. Fortunately, Yoshino, while prone to childish careless accidents, wasn't really clumsy; they just needed to remind her to be careful with it, and things should be fine.

This time, Yoshino verbally thanked everyone who gave her a present, complimented the cook on his efforts and politely clapped for the servant-magician when he successfully performed a card trick proving he was psychic.

_He must have really been hurt last year_, she thought. _He's been working on it._

There was a lot less of the tension that had underlain the party last year. The staff, as a whole, seemed happier. Yoshino seemed happier, and again insisted on personally carving apart the ornately arranged carrot cake—which was what she had always really wanted, apparently.

Afterwards, they went to the old man's office to try out the new chess set. Things had gone, well, swimmingly.

Except for one aspect.

"It wasn't a bad gambit," the old man said, leaning over the board and moving up his blood-red queen. "But you should have seen that the flaws in your king-side defense were too egregious for an aggressive move like that."

"I really thought I had that square pinned down," Yoshino said, frowning. "Apparently not. I should forfeit."

"And it's already far past your bedtime," she warned Yoshino. "It's time you took your bath and went straight to sleep. No stories today."

Yoshino looked at her unhappily, but accepted it, jumping off her chair.

In fact, the old man had asked her to stay afterwards, and she was making a handy excuse to get the girl out of the room.

"It's okay," she said, feeling guilty, when the girl reached up to pack the set into its elaborate case. "I'll take care of it. You can leave it."

Again, Yoshino nodded, before turning and grabbing her hand. They looked at each other a moment, before the girl finally let go.

"Good night, mother," Yoshino said, before turning her head to look at the old man.

"Father," she added, already turning to leave.

"I told you to stop calling us that!" she finally remembered to snap, but the girl was already at the doorway of the room and, like always, ignoring the command.

The old man waited until Yoshino was out of the room before showing a slight cringe.

"I'm at least thirty years too old to have someone that young calling me that," he said, only partly as a joke. "In fact, I'm too old to have _you_ calling me that."

"I don't understand," she complained, leaning forward onto her elbows, showing her frustration on her face. "I finally got her talking a little, and the first thing she does is develop a fixation like this! It's just not healthy."

They sat in silence for a moment, the old man regarding her.

"Well, you can hardly blame her," he said, repeating a line of thought he had been working on for a while. "She's only six, after all. It's so easy to forget that. Most children her age are actively preoccupied smashing apart the household furniture. Instead, she speaks politely, compliments the chef, and challenges me at chess. But this…she's only showing her age."

"I'd almost prefer her to be smashing apart the furniture," she responded. "At least that way I'd have a good idea of what to do."

She raised her head and looked at him, as if he might have the answers.

"Again, it's only natural," the old man said, leaning back in his chair. "You and I—especially you—are the only ones who've ever paid her so much concentrated attention. She's bright; I'm sure she's picked up some idea of her position and what's missing from her life. No child likes being alone like that. She's probably figured that it's better to think of us as replacement. It helps her deal with it."

She shook her head in disagreement.

"We can't let this continue. It will only hurt her, in the long run."

The old man turned his chair away from her, and looked at a painting of a couple on the wall behind him. She couldn't see his expression.

"I didn't say I wanted to let this continue," he said, sounding suddenly tired. "Only that I understand why she does it. She's perceptive and she's only stating, in some sense, the true nature of things. You understood that, when you took this job. She understands it, too. Suppose you forced her, with punishments, to stop calling us mother and father. Then what? In her heart, nothing will have changed, and that's what matters. It will hurt her someday, but as long as we have no choice, why not allow her some happiness now? That is, in fact, partly why you are here."

He turned back slightly and looked at her out of the corner of his eyes.

"Unless, perhaps, you've thought of something clever?" he asked.

She just stared back, silently, for a long moment, and shook her head.

"Perhaps, if I just talked to her…" she began, her voice trailing off, head dipping down. _Of course_ she had already done that. Three times. The girl knew very well what she was doing and what the truth was. She simply preferred to continue building her dangerous, comforting fantasy.

_Only six_, she thought. _But it never feels like it. She shouldn't even be as mature as she is. She shouldn't have to be._

"I didn't really think so," the old man sighed, turning his chair back.

She looked up, eyes falling by chance on the painting on the wall. She had never looked at it carefully before…

She started, realizing the obvious.

"That's them, isn't it?" she asked, too surprised to hold back. She pointed at the painting.

The old man looked at her curiously.

"Her parents," she explained. "That's who's in the painting. I've always thought it was you and your wife. But he looks nothing like you and quite a bit like Yoshino. That _must_ be who they are."

The old man smiled slightly, mostly at her reaction.

"I'm an old bachelor, not a widower. Never married. Never will, now. And yes, those are indeed her parents. Perhaps it's time I got on to why I asked you here."

She had forgotten about that entirely, and raised an eyebrow as he reached down below his desk.

Needless to say, she was a little surprised when he pulled out a large bottle of wine.

"What are—" she began.

"Don't get this wrong," he interrupted, wresting with the wine cork. "This is only here so I can get suitably drunk while I tell you this. So I have a bit of an excuse, you see."

She looked at him, still confused.

"Though you're twenty now, so go ahead and have some if you want," he said, pouring the wine into a cup he also pulled out of a drawer. "Though I didn't prepare a cup for you."

"What? Tell me what?" she asked, her thoughts finally catching up to her.

He didn't answer immediately, instead wasting a cup of what was undoubtedly very high quality wine by downing it in one gulp.

"There," he said. "That way if anyone ever asks how you know any of this, you got me drunk and asked me."

"That's the craziest thing I've ever heard," she said, not having been able to think of a more proper response. "I wouldn't admit anything like that!"

He smiled slightly, setting the cup aside.

"I also need it, just a little. You've been here for a year now. I think it's time you learned a little of the history of this family."

He cleared his throat, buying time to reformulate the train of thought in his mind.

She took that time to think thing through, looking at him uncertainly. He clearly wasn't going to give her a chance to stop and question him, but it couldn't harm to learn a little.

"I was once the family's most trusted servant," he began suddenly, in a story-teller's tone, swirling his wine. "I'd been with her father since he was a boy, and if I don't flatter myself too much, I believe I had a significant hand in his development. In some sense I was his mentor."

He paused rhetorically.

"I hope, at least, that I was a force for good. Sometimes I worry."

_Why is he telling me this?_ She thought. _What's going on?_

"He turned out to be a bit of a delinquent," the old man continued a moment later. "Despite everything I tried to do, all the times I dragged him back home dead drunk and the couple of times I tried to literally beat some sense into him, he didn't turn out well. He was one of those kids who lashed out at everyone. I did everything I could to try and reform him, but he was just so_ angry_, and in the end I couldn't help him make peace."

She stared back at him. Was he trying to apologize for Yoshino's parents?

The old man stared into his cup, a small twisted smile on his face.

"They really were a good pair," he continued. "He and the woman his parents arranged him to marry. I have to admit that much. She brought him under control in a way I never could. But I never agreed with her solution for the issue, not matter how practical it seemed. Icy and logical; her daughter shares a little of that—not too much, I hope."

He stopped to see if she was still with him.

"Which was?" she asked, cuing him, interested despite herself. "The solution was?"

He drank another cup, and she began to wonder if he were serious about getting drunk.

"She never said as much, but she pulled him as far away from the house as she could. I spent years traveling with them, to America, to Europe, to India, anywhere but Japan."

"Why?" she asked, taking advantage of a gap between sentences to ask the obvious question.

He glanced at her.

"In a moment," he insisted. "I have to tell the story in proper order."

He took a breath, a little less steadily, pouring himself another cup.

"I just didn't take this sitting down, of course. Finally, he was calming down, but in the worst possible way, I realized. He was losing his grasp on life. Nothing but endless parties and holidays and drinking. That wasn't the child I had wanted to raise. Near the end of it, I said to their faces that he needed to go back and face up to his problems, that they couldn't live their whole lives like this, that he was a useless bum. You can imagine how well that went over."

"It didn't do anything but generate screaming arguments between me and the girl's mother, of course. But even though he didn't take my advice, he still didn't send me back. I stayed with them. I took heart in that."

"How—" she tried to ask.

"You start to see it, don't you?" he asked. "The last thing on their minds was having children. His parents, who I kept in contact with, were at their last tether. They tried everything to bring them back. It was the mother who died first, of cancer. When that happened, his father hatched the idea of an ultimatum, a way to ensure family continuity, even if he died."

"He codified it right into his will. On his death, the entirety of the family assets would be invested in a third-party trust. From this trust, not a single penny would flow until the day his son managed to produce an heir. If this were done, then a certain small amount would be dispensed each year to the parents along with a separate, rather larger, amount for the care of said heir. Further, a trustee was appointed with the transferable right to seize this second amount and assume guardianship himself, should he feel that the parents are not fulfilling their duties. Finally, on the day the heir herself marries, the entire trust devolves into his or her sole possession."

He paused to catch his breath.

"The part about guardianship is almost certainly unenforceable, since the law doesn't exactly allow a child's grandparents to override the will of her parents. Nonetheless, the point is clear. He had lost faith in his son and was placing his hopes in the generation after; that is, in the girl we are taking care of."

She wasn't sure what her face looked like, but she was sure she had never looked more flabbergasted and overwhelmed. This was too much information to absorb at once!

"The trustee was of course, me," he said. "I've never had to formally assert my powers, because her parents, by and large, seem happy to allocate me the money every year and leave me to do what I wish with the girl."

He drained his cup again, and looked into the dregs.

_This can't be healthy_, she thought.

"However crazy or extreme this was, it was effective. You can imagine what it was like when we heard that the old man was dead—in a car accident, because his chauffeur was driving too recklessly, like always, the old fool—and what exactly the provisions of his will were," he continued, face now quite red, waving his cup at her.

"No more money, no more flying to exotic locales, no more champagne dinners in Paris. They flew back to Japan, sustained themselves with whatever money they had in their personal accounts, and got the job done quite quickly. To be honest, I was impressed."

He set the cup down, seeming to have finally decided it was enough.

"I was more optimistic than you might think given the situation. It was a bad business, but I thought perhaps they had had the fear of God put into them, that they would settle down as was heavily implied they should do in the will. Surely they would do so, at least for the sake of their own child. So I thought."

"They didn't," she said, stating the obvious.

"No, they didn't," he repeated, shaking his head. "When I realized they were planning to leave her behind, we almost burned the house down with our yelling. I cut all ties with them. I would focus on this girl; her father was a lost cause, even if he didn't want me to leave him. They couldn't fire me, not anymore."

The old man looked at her, head slightly tilting, obviously expecting some questions.

"And what of her maternal grandparents?" she asked a few minutes later, having finally come up with a question worth asking.

"They never approved of the marriage to start with. I tried contacting them, but they didn't want to talk about it, not so long as the girl wasn't starving, especially since she wasn't _their_ primary heir. Last I heard, they're dead too. I was surprised, but Yoshino actually got a little something. I've invested it."

She looked at the palms of her hands.

"And does the girl know any of this?"

"Of course not," he scoffed. "How on earth would I explain this to her at her age? No, all I've ever told her is that her parents are busy earning money to maintain the family fortune. She'll want to know more, someday, but not now. I imagine she'll only be given the whole story on her eighteenth birthday."

They sat in silence for a moment.

"Perhaps I should move on to the rest of the story now," he said, finally.

"There's more?" she asked, incredulous. "How can there be more?"

"I'll abbreviate it," the old man said. "I'm feeling rather tired, and I hope I can get the salient points across quickly."

She nodded.

"Her father's father, despite the impression you might have gotten, wasn't a particularly good father. He spent all his time managing the conglomerate of corporations he had leveraged the family fortune into. His mother was the same. I essentially raised her father, frankly, but his parents still dropped in on a monthly basis and they were…rather violent, especially the father."

She cringed. This just kept getting deeper and deeper.

"I did research into the family, back in the day," he said. "Generation after generation had some variation of this, going back to the Meiji-era matriarch who started the fortune. It wasn't usually so extreme, but it's probably not a coincidence not a single one of them produced more than one child."

A clock ticked softly in the background.

"What a terrible family," she said finally. "It keeps getting passed down, then."

"Do you understand?" he asked. "The biggest regret of my life is the sheer magnitude of my failure with the girl's father. I produced an utter failure. I am culpable for what has happened to her. I've been trying to make up for it—"

Here he stopped himself, straightened what she realized was his suddenly slouched posture. She realized that the amount of alcohol in his system was finally starting to tell.

"But I'm too old now," he said, starting to ramble. "Frankly, I could be dead tomorrow. And…I no longer think I am the right person for this job. In some ways, the girl is disturbingly like her father. Why did I fail? He had so much potential…"

She had to stop this, she decided.

"I couldn't do it," he said, fist on the table. "I couldn't break the cycle."

"Sir, perhaps you should sleep," she suggested imperiously, making it quite clear that, despite her wording, it was mostly an order.

He seemed to awaken.

"Yes, yes, sleep. I should, now," he said, pushing himself up to a standing position unsteadily.

"Are you okay?" she asked, showing concern again.

"I'm fine," he said, lurching toward the door that connected his bedroom with his office. "I told you I'd get drunk."

This last he said with a vestige of a smile as he disappeared behind the door.

She watched the door for a while, looked at the clock and the wall painting, then finally got up to take her shower.

She didn't sleep that night either.

* * *

"It's a popular theory among the staff that the young mistress is adopted," Arisawa informed her, out of the blue, during an otherwise idle conversation near the garden ponds. They were watching the girl in question chase some poor frog around the lily pads, trying to grab it with a net. Unlike the old man or her, he did not call Yoshino by her personal name.

Well, at least it was better than Nakanawa and her "Yo-chan".

"Really?" she asked, raising an eyebrow and turning to look at him with one eye, keeping the other on Yoshino to make sure she didn't trip into the water. Up until then, the conversation had been about their own, distant parents, and then onto the topic of parents of general. It had been foolish of her to let it approach this topic; she was aware that what she knew was far from common knowledge.

"We've all been here longer than you," he said, tilting his head, "but only three or four of us have been here since the very beginning. And they don't ever say anything."

He shrugged to indicate how little he believed what he was about to say.

"The story goes: her parents came here to continue the family name, the baby died on birth, and they hurried in some abandoned baby from a hospital to serve as a replacement. Only then, of course, the parents wouldn't care about the child's welfare as much as they should."

"That's ridiculous," she said, quite truthfully. "That doesn't make any sense!"

Arisawa shrugged again.

"Supposedly someone overheard the old man talking about it to someone, long ago. I myself don't believe it; it's a ridiculous story. But some of the servants think of it as gospel truth."

She wondered just who would start an outré rumor like that. Or was it some sort of misunderstanding?

"Well, it's certainly untrue," she said, careful not reveal that she knew more than she was about to say, but feeling the need to say something. "Several times, the old man has commented to me about how she's similar to her parents."

"Is that so?" he asked.

They were interrupted when Yoshino pulled on her skirt to grab her attention. She turned down to look.

The girl held a large glass cup, covered the opening with her hand. Inside was a large cricket. Yoshino looked up at her for approval, wide-eyed.

_What happened to the frog? _she wondered. _Where did she get that cup?_

"That's lovely," she said patronizingly, looking at it, "but—"

_Wait, I can probably do something with this_.

* * *

Later that same day, the two of them listened from the main room as Yoshino played her violin.

"Have you noticed that, on her own, she only ever plays sad songs?" Arisawa asked.

"Yes," she said. She couldn't truthfully say she hadn't.

"It breaks my heart," he said.

* * *

It was not entirely true that Yoshino's parents had not thought about their child at all. The rationale between locating Yoshino in this particular household had been for its proximity to a certain exclusive children's school, one that her father had attended as a child. The old man had realized this, and had thus never moved her.

Despite their ultimate decision that homeschooling was the wrong choice, it was with much trepidation that she finally saw the girl off on that first day at the school gate, giving her one last hug and reiterating the advice she had been repeating for days: listen to your teachers, be nice to your classmates, talk more often. Her homeroom teacher had visited a couple of days ago, and she had made sure Yoshino knew who the woman was. She wasn't sure if any of it had sunk in.

She had also explained to Yoshino over and over the past few weeks the necessity of sending her to school, what it was like there, and how she would be away from any of the servants. She was sure Yoshino understood what she had said and, indeed, the girl hadn't resisted the trip at all, getting up early and preparing herself efficiently, putting on the standardized uniform and the carefully prepared backpack full of school supplies.

Even so, when she waved goodbye from inside the car, the girl's eyes, looking back from among the crowd of children, were full of fear.

_It's normal_, she reassured herself. _She'll get over it._

The first month seemed to go well, so far as she could tell. Sure, Yoshino seemed not have made any friends, despite what she had hoped, but at the same time there didn't seem to be any especial problems. Every weekday, she watched Yoshino dutifully—and quickly—complete her homework, the captive cricket chirping forlornly in the cage on her desk, or chewing apart a watermelon peel the girl had fed it.

At the end of the month, the teacher visited again, and the old man explained that, sadly, her parents were once again away on business, and that he would be happy to relay anything he heard. She listened from a discreet distance as the instructor smiled and talked about Yoshino's excellent test scores, then frowned and talked about the girl's refusal to answer questions whose answer she clearly knew full well, and her concern about the girl's tendency to completely ignore her peers at recess.

It was her hope, the teacher said, that her parents could do something about this, since the mild punishments she had been willing to inflict had had no effect at all on Yoshino's behavior. The old man said that he would relay the message, and that he was confident that something would be done.

Afterward, she scolded Yoshino. The girl listened to her attentively and politely, but she was sure Yoshino had no intention of changing her behavior by even one iota.

* * *

By strange chance, she was present when the old man received the first of the phone calls.

The old man excused himself from their conversation. It had been about whether or not it was worth hiring a private tutor, taking advantage of the girl's natural aptitude and give her a bit of a further push. It made sense, but she was worried that it might make her even more isolated.

He picked up the receiver of the proffered phone and listened attentively—and then his face froze.

"What?" she asked. "What is it?"

She was entertaining the possibility that Yoshino's mythical parents had finally decided to make contact again and made hand gestures to inquire, but the old man ignored her entirely, mechanically repeating "I see" over and over into the phone, before ending the call with an apology and hanging up rather forcefully.

"Get Arisawa," he said, face stiff, "and go pick her up from school. She's been in a fight. A bad one."

Needless to say, Arisawa broke quite a few traffic regulations on the way there.

"We have a zero-tolerance policy for violence," the principal informed her severely at the gate. "I won't pretend it never happens, but I've never had it involve a child so young. Not only that, Yoshino here definitely started it. She'll be suspended for three days. So will the others."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she apologized, bowing repeatedly, holding a battered-looking Yoshino by the hand.

The principal's face softened a bit.

"She's still young. It's hard to blame her. But whatever is going on at home, sort it out. Please. I've read the reports."

_If only I could, _she thought.

_Reports?_ she thought, a moment later.

On the ride home, she focused primarily on inspecting Yoshino physically. Some tears to her uniform, a swollen eye, gashes all over, badly scraped knuckles—

_Well, at least she knows something about how to fight_, she thought grimly.

"What could you possibly have been _thinking_?" she demanded, once they were isolated in the girl's room.

The girl, sitting on her bed, avoided her gaze and looked directly at the wall.

"I spend months trying to get you to talk to someone," she said, louder than she really should have. "And the first thing you do is punch someone in the face!"

"They were insulting you!" Yoshino snapped, turning her head breaking her sullen silence. "How the hell am I supposed to stand for that?"

She took a step back, admittedly surprised.

"Me? How—"

"Okay, maybe not you precisely," Yoshino said, turning away again. "You should have heard them! They were talking about how much trash their servants were, and how they deliberately made them work harder, and how their parents laughed, and then they laughed at me when I tried to make them stop—"

The girl stopped talking, choking on anger, fists clenching and unclenching.

_Is that what this is about?_ she thought incredulously.

There were some families like that. The overall domestic service community made themselves well aware of who they were, and generally avoided them like the plague. This forced the families to raise wages several times over to attract those desperate enough for the money. She would have thought it a more fitting retribution if money meant anything at all to those in question.

She shouldn't have been surprised that they passed it onto their children sometimes.

"Look," she said, grabbing Yoshino by the shoulders and forcing her to look back. "Some people are like that. It's a fact of life. That doesn't mean you can just go hit them."

"I know," Yoshino said miserably, still trying to look away, seeming to have calmed down. "I just couldn't hold back."

She let go and nodded to herself. Maybe this was enough. As long as she knew it was wrong.

Yoshino showed a small crooked smile. She rubbed her right fist.

"Considering it was three versus one, I think I did fairly well," she said, standing up from her bed.

"Yoshino!" she snapped, using her family name. The girl correspondingly snapped to attention.

"That's enough," she said. "Sit at your desk for the next two hours. No books, no computer. I'll be watching."

She made good on her promise, standing in the doorway, arms crossed, watching Yoshino stare at the wall.

_She's such a peaceful girl_, she thought. _Where did this come from?_

No, she just hadn't thought about it carefully enough. No one had said anything like that in front of Yoshino. No one had ever insulted her or laughed at her like that. It would have been impossible for her to notice if Yoshino had a streak of anger, even if she never got angry about being denied sweets or anything trivial like that.

_I've probably spoiled her_, she thought. _But how I could possibly have done anything else when she wouldn't even talk to anyone?_

It was also possible that the girl held back at home, and had just been waiting for a chance to release it. It was true that Yoshino seemed unnaturally calm at times…

"What is this?" the old man asked, appearing at her side.

"Punishment," she responded crisply.

The man glanced at her with a look she couldn't decipher.

"I hope it works," he said simply.

* * *

That month, when the homeroom teacher visited, she was obviously on heightened alert for any signs of discord. The instructor was young and fresh-faced—she failed to notice any irony in her assessment of the teacher—and her probing questions about the once-again missing parents were painfully obvious. Finally, the old man ended it by admitting some portion of the truth.

"We're doing the best we can," she said, breaking her silence and walking up. "I've talked to her. We're taking care of her. What else can we do?"

The teacher nodded.

"I just hope it won't happen again," the woman said.

* * *

But it did happen again. This time, by mutual agreement with the principal, she was held out for the two weeks, essentially missing the last weeks before summer break.

Yoshino came home with a swollen face, a chipped tooth, and a series of bruises and scarpes down her right arm. She yelled at the girl, of course, and confined her to her room for an entire day, but mostly out of a sense of obligation. She wasn't really angry, or disappointed, even though she had said so. She was just frustrated, and didn't really have the heart to show any true anger, especially not after she heard the explanation.

It seemed some of the older students had overheard one of her teachers talking with another about Yoshino's situation, and had used it to taunt her. Again, despite the disparity in numbers and age, Yoshino had lashed out, even though she should have swallowed her pride and bit it down.

Supposedly, that was the correct path, but she was starting to feel increasingly like punching them herself. When the teacher in question called her to offer a timorous apology, she gave her a ferocious tongue-lashing, excoriating her for her incompetence and stupidity. It felt good.

Still, they weren't even halfway through Yoshino's first year, and she was already headed down the path to academic disgrace, despite her test scores. She was at her wit's end.

"Surely there must be something you can do," the old man said, wringing his hands. "Surely you have a plan."

"I wish I did," she responded.

* * *

Two weeks later, she dragged an unwilling Yoshino down the hill, again finding a large group of the neighborhood children playing on the same field. Just like last summer, their numbers were augmented by visitors from the city, obvious from their recent and patchwork tans. Many of them were the same faces as the year before. Some were not.

"I'm telling you I don't want to," Yoshino informed her, when they had once again reached the field's edge.

"And I'm telling you that's not good enough," she responded. "You have to learn to deal with children your own age. The world is not always going to be kind to you, or fair. Now go."

She gave Yoshino a substantial push forward and glared at her, arms crossed, until she made a half-hearted effort to join the others.

It didn't go well. The others sensed her lack of enthusiasm, and she responded to their questions coldly, and sometimes not at all. It didn't take long for her to become isolated in her own corner of the field, only one lone girl continuing to try to talk to her, and getting continuously rebuffed.

Finally she conceded and called Yoshino back.

"I'm disappointed in you," she said, quite truthfully. She was getting frustrated, and angry.

Yoshino ignored her, wearing a surly look on her face.

"What's with her, ma'am?" the other girl asked, appearing out of nowhere.

She blinked at the other girl, eyes focusing, momentarily confused. So she was still here.

"I don't know," she said. "I really don't know. But she's disappointed me."

She looked at Yoshino, who stood silently. She noticed, suddenly, that the girl's fists were clenched.

"I just want to be normal," Yoshino said, in a voice she had never heard before.

She intuited it a moment before it happened.

"Don't you understand?" Yoshino asked, turning on her with all her fury, unable to hold back any longer. "Why don't you understand? That's all I want! Do you think I want to be the only one in my class with no parents? They're not even dead!"

She looked back at Yoshino's anguished face. The girl was biting her lip so hard it bled and clenching her fists at the sides of her jeans, hands shaking.

_She's breaking down_¸ she thought, heart tearing.

"How do you think it feels?" Yoshino screamed, again losing it. "Listening to them jabber on and on about their families? I can't stand it! And then they go and insult the only family I have! They're all so, so stupid! They can't do trivial math! They talk like babies! Do you know what it feels like, having people like that look down on you for something you can't even control? I've spent my whole life trying to make myself better and smarter and more polite and all I get in return in mockery and punishment! I'm sorry I can't get along with them! I'm sorry they make fun of me for knowing how to speak properly and read books and not watching TV! I'm goddamn sorry!"

Yoshino kicked the grass with impotent force and ran, back towards the car, tears streaming down her face.

She realized, belatedly, that she had never before seen Yoshino cry. Then she finally unfroze.

"Wait!" she yelled, running after her after only the most cursory of glances back. Only one thing imprinted itself on her mind: the other girl, with her wide eyes, utterly shocked.

* * *

Arisawa had the good sense to make the drive back up as painfully slow as possible. It didn't matter.

Yoshino sat in her seat, sobbing, refusing to be comforted, and she had no idea what to say.

_No idea._

Sure, she could offer the usual platitudes, about needing to be more mature and dealing with it, but she knew it would be worthless. She shouldn't _have_ to be so mature.

So she sat silently, looking down at Yoshino, feeling utterly helpless, utterly useless.

* * *

She spent the rest of the week in a bit of a daze, going through the motions and nodding absently whenever the old man tried to talk to her. Her morale was sapped.

Once, she sat and listened to the girl play the violin for hours, angry and discordant and sad, and she didn't move once, not to try to talk to her, or bring her some water, or tell her to come out of her room already.

She wasn't going to give up, but she was tired and out of ideas. She didn't know what to do.

She loved Yoshino. There was no need to deny it. She had realized it months ago. And why not? The girl was practically her own now. And she couldn't do a single thing for her.

She was so useless.

* * *

It was in some sense, her darkest moment. The old man had started transparently trying to raise her spirits, while simultaneously trying to talk to Yoshino himself, during their periodic chess games. Both of them ignored him, which must have been depressing.

However, it was during just such an attempt by the old man to motivate her that the unexpected happened.

The old man stopped mid-sentence as they heard a voice, a quiet high-pitched laugh. It was so quiet and distant that they would never have noticed it had there not been something so _familiar_ about it, something they couldn't quite put their finger on…

They looked at each other, their eyes widened simultaneously, and she instantly came out of her stupor. It was Yoshino laughing, and the reason they hadn't realized it immediately was because they had never heard it before.

They didn't run, not quite, but they certainly walked to the source rather quickly.

They turned a corner.

Yoshino had stopped laughing, but her expression, for the first time in a long time, showed something other than anger.

"See?" the girl seated across from her on the grass said. "I told you I could make you laugh."

In that moment, she was finally able to place the newly-tanned face, the carelessly-tied pigtails.

It was the girl from the other day, the one with the wide eyes, the one who had seen everything.

"You cheated," Yoshino said simply.

Though she would have preferred to keep watching in silence, the old man cleared his throat.

Yoshino's head jerked around, and she got up with unseemly haste, obviously surprised.

"Can you believe it?" she asked, walking up to them, failing to fake annoyance. "She's been bugging me for a whole week now. Every single day, she climbs up this ridiculous hill to talk to me. She's so persistent! Tell her to go away."

_I'm not doing anything of the sort_, she thought.

"I told you," the other girl said, following closely. "I don't care how many times you tell me to go away. I'm not leaving."

She took a good look at the girl, with her pigtails, strange smile, wide eyes, worn-out jeans and faded T-shirt.

"So what's your name?" she asked, bending down to look at her more directly.

"Uchida. Uchida _Yuka_. Yoshino's been telling me about you. You're her mother, right?"


	16. Omake 3: Little Girl

Uchida knew very well she wasn't Yoshino's mother, of course. Even if the girl hadn't heard Yoshino's outburst earlier, her age was a dead giveaway.

…or so she hoped, anyway.

That the girl even knew that much, and played along with Yoshino on that point, was very interesting indeed.

She invited the girl in for tea and snacks, over Yoshino's protests. She also tried and failed, for perhaps the hundredth time, to convince the old man to allow something other than Earl Grey to be served.

"Did you really climb up here every single day?" she asked. "That's quite impressive."

"Uh-huh," Uchida said, chewing at one of the cook's specially-made rice snacks. "It's not so bad, if you know how to do it. And you gotta start early, or else the sun makes you all sweaty."

Presumably she had circumvented the gate by the simple expedient of cutting through the forested area no one had ever bothered to wall off.

"Ah, youth," the old man commented, sipping his tea.

Yoshino just sat and glared at all of them, as if they had wronged her somehow. Her child's dress made for quite a contrast with Uchida's practical clothing, both in style and imputed upbringing.

"Why though?" the old man asked, a moment later. "It's not an easy trip to be making on a whim."

"Well, I didn't know before that a rich girl lived up here," Uchida said, "And I wanted to see what it was like. I was curious. You know, it took me three days to get Yoshino to even talk to me!"

"Is that so?" she asked patronizingly, happy just to have her here. Of course she was remembering every word.

"I couldn't just keep ignoring her," Yoshino said. "Not after she kept trying like that. I thought maybe if I talked to her, she'd get bored."

Yoshino displayed a slight pout, revealed another expression she hadn't managed to see before: embarrassment.

_But why?_ she thought. _Is she embarrassed to have met someone so soon after deriding so strongly everyone her own age?_

Probably, she decided, thinking back to what Yoshino had said earlier. If she had only found one person she could talk to, then she wouldn't have said any of that. She had just been venting frustration, when all she wanted was a friend her age.

Something like that.

_Still, this is definitely a good thing. There's reason for optimism._

She tended to believe things should be allowed to take their own course, as much as possible. But in this case she was willing to do whatever it took to keep Uchida coming. Cookies and tea and hospitality were easy. Telling Arisawa to start driving the girl up every day was easy. Finding Yoshino someone else would be hard. Very hard, as she had discovered.

"It's probably too much for you to keep climbing up here like that," she said, addressing Uchida. "We can have the chauffeur drive you up here, if you want. You can call. Give her a phone number, old man."

Without missing a beat, the old man in question deftly pulled a business card out of his suit pocket and handed it over.

"Sure," Uchida responded, pocketing the card and then drinking some of her tea. She wrinkled her nose at the taste.

She hoped the girl wouldn't lose the card.

Yoshino looked up at her with an expression torn between concern and badly-concealed anticipation.

_Something like this is new to her_, she thought. _She isn't sure if she really wants to see her so much._

"Anyway, you can visit me too if you want," Uchida said to Yoshino, ignoring her discomfort. "You don't even have to say—well I guess auntie might want to know if she's having guests."

She watched them, thinking.

"You want to have lunch?" she asked Uchida, as the girl was reciting a phone number to Yoshino for memorization. She would have gotten a pen and paper for them, but Yoshino could be relied on for this kind of thing.

"Sure!" Uchida said. "Just let me call home and say I'm not having lunch."

"Let me get the cordless phone," the old man said, getting up. She didn't interrupt, even though she had her cell phone in her pocket.

"Now show me your room," Uchida said, turning back to Yoshino. "You promised!"

Yoshino dipped her head and glanced around.

"I was mostly kidding," she said, face getting suddenly red. "I mean, I didn't really think I could sneak you in…"

"Well, you don't have to sneak me in now." Uchida said.

"Stop talking, Yuka!" Yoshino said finally, exasperated.

* * *

After that bit of initial resistance, things went rather well.

Daily life settled into a bit of a rhythm. Arisawa departed in the morning and returned a brief while later with Uchida in tow. Yoshino greeted her when she arrived, and they were off to entertain themselves as only children could; there was a _lot_ of space on the house and grounds. Late at night, after dinner, Arisawa drove Uchida back down, often with a stack of books she had gamely promised Yoshino she would read.

Frankly, given how much time Uchida spent up on the hill, she wasn't sure how the girl would ever have the time to read them, even if the girl seriously intended to. Uchida, despite being courteous enough to apologize for her intrusion and occasionally bring gifts, was generally shameless about the sheer number of _pro bono _meals she was consuming.

Yoshino showed Uchida her violin playing—Yoshino practiced less now, but she didn't really mind—and got terribly frustrated trying to get Uchida to develop basic competence in chess. Uchida brought a soccer ball and taught Yoshino the basic rules, making a makeshift goal out of the gazebo until the she and the old man bought them an actual goal. They caught more crickets which demanded more cages. They wanted board games, so she had a whole assortment delivered, and barely cared that one of the boxes contained five copies of Monopoly, instead of whatever was supposed to be in there. They spent so long trying to practice throwing a basketball through a gap in the trees that the old man himself bought them a hoop, without even telling her. She then spent long hours watching the two of them challenge each other into increasingly impossible shots.

Perhaps the pinnacle of her overindulgence came when Yoshino decided the only way to impress onto Yuka her love of stories was to dress up and get Yuka to join her in a careful reenactment, which Uchida was surprisingly actually up for. _Of course_ she bought them whatever costumes and props were necessary, even if she should have just let them use their imaginations, and even if the only sizes available for many of the designs were adult-sizes. And _of course_, she let herself be talked into doing Dr. Moriarity and every single bit part for every story, while the girls were Holmes and Watson or whoever the main characters were.

She was probably spoiling them rotten, but it seemed so wrong to hold back when money was no object, and when she herself had no other obligations. And the mini-plays were not only adorable, but displayed the kind of creativity she knew many parents would kill to see from their children. She built up an entire album solely from pictures of them in costume.

She had had no idea just how much time she had spent hovering over Yoshino and keeping her entertained until she suddenly stopped needing to do so. She spent long periods sitting around watching them, uncomfortably idle, crushing irrational feelings of loneliness and having to ignore the urge to get them yet another round of snacks and tea.

Several times, she invited Uchida's aunt and uncle, the relatives with whom she was staying, over to dinner. They were nice people, and built up a surprising rapport with the old man, but seemed unsure what to make of their niece's sudden singular focus on the rich girl who lived at top of the hill.

She was puzzled too. She wasn't unhappy, far from it, but for the girl to so suddenly forget all the other kids in the area in favor of difficult hikes up a hill to talk to another girl who wouldn't even acknowledge her—it bespoke an unusual kind of dedication. A dedication that didn't really make sense.

She suspected Uchida was deeper than she seemed.

* * *

The overall rhythm changed twice in those early days.

First, after barely a week, Yoshino began wordlessly following Arisawa to the car in the morning and following Arisawa and Uchida back to the car in the evening. No explanation was necessary or given.

The second was at her suggestion. Since Yuka spent so long at the house, why not have her spend the night every once in a while? It wasn't as if they were hard up on space, and it seemed like a reasonable idea.

Uchida proved just as amenable to storytelling as Yoshino had been, to her secret delight, but she was virtually certain they got right back up and continued chatting the moment she closed the door on them. She didn't mind as much as she pretended to, however, and Yoshino's ridiculously oversized bed meant that they didn't even have to make any special preparations—they could just sleep together. Though on several occasions, she overhead Uchida grumble about Yoshino's propensity to kick, hog the sheets, and somehow manage to dominate the entire flat surface of the mattress.

Soon, Uchida began spending every other day over, and a strange side effect emerged: the two of them began to leave on seemingly random treks through the forested wilderness on the back end of the hill, usually without telling anyone, and usually at night. They were also strangely reluctant to let anyone go with them. Repeated warnings about danger and getting lost failed to dissuade them, and she didn't really want to pen them in, so she eventually just gave in and told the otherwise idle Arisawa to follow them from a distance, as discreetly as he could manage. They quickly caught onto his stalking, and began to deliberately try to lose him, successfully enough that they always managed to elude him at least a couple of times each trip, but not successfully enough that he couldn't find them again, at least not usually.

As a system, though, it worked well enough, up until the day Arisawa showed up far too late in the night, sweating heavily despite the cold, saying he had lost track of them and was hoping they had made their way back. They had not, of course, but this had happened before—they remained calm, if a little nervous.

When the clock struck midnight, she could wait no longer, and jumped up to seriously organize everyone into search parties, starting to panic just a little. At that exact moment, the two girls finally turned up, perfectly fine and asking for dinner. Apparently they had just gotten caught up in exploring as far as they could, and walked much farther than they really should have, with the result that it had taken them far too long to get back.

She tore into them, harsher than she had ever been before, unfairly dumping her emotions onto them, and outright banned them leaving the mansion grounds on their own ever again. She actually had Uchida crying by the time she managed to reign herself back in, full of regrets. Yoshino's eyes, looking back at her, burned like lit coals.

For the next few days, she was on horrible terms with them. Yoshino simply ignored her, with a degree of frozen iciness she wouldn't have credited to someone twice her age. They refused to include her in any of their activities, and it hurt her more than she could ever admit.

Part of her wanted to apologize and take it all back. It hurt her heart to do this to them. But she knew she had had a point. It simply wasn't safe, notwithstanding the fact that they had apparently been fine up until now. Sure, there weren't any predators to worry about, but there were plenty of slopes where a girl could fall and get injured, especially in the dark. And if they were forced to spend the night out there…

Yoshino would simply have to learn to accept limits.

It was the old man who finally proposed a solution.

"What is it?" she asked, as he bent over to hand Yoshino a small metal device.

"It's a tracker," he said, a little proudly. "It broadcasts at a specific frequency and is linked to a receiver in my office. With it, and the GPS built into both devices, I can pinpoint her exact location at any time, and we can always find her, if necessary."

_I wonder how much it cost, she wondered idly._

Yoshino held the object in both hands, and the two girls looked at it warily.

"With it, we won't have to worry about losing them," he said, "and can even find them in the middle of the night. What do you think?"

He looked at her with a soliciting look. So did the two girls, though their faces were more pleading. None of them even had to formally ask.

"Alright," she said, nodding slightly, conceding. "You can go out again. Put it in your pocket, and _don't lose it_."

The girls nodded vigorously and ran off, apparently intending to leave that very minute.

"Hey, at least put on some jackets!" she yelled after them.

* * *

It wasn't exactly a groundbreaking observation, but it eventually became apparent to her that the two girl's personalities were blending into each other. It was to be expected, of course, given the sheer amount of time they were spending with each other, but it was still quite a sight to see, for instance, the two of them brushing and complimenting each other's hair—Uchida's opinion was that Yoshino should let her hair grow out, but Yoshino frowned at the upkeep this would entail.

There were other aspects to it, of course, and it wasn't just that Uchida starting enjoying the tea. Yoshino's speech became subtly more vernacular and less formal, while Uchida experienced a corresponding uptick in vocabulary. She was surprised when Uchida started to slowly return some of the books she had been lent. Skeptical, she queried the girl about the plot of one of them, and received a comprehensive answer.

She was saddened, however, to see Yoshino's games lose a bit of their inscrutable and mysterious flavor, instead becoming more like the games one would except out of a girl her age. It made her less unique, in a way, and she didn't want the two of them to turn into clones of each other.

One thing she was definitely glad Yoshino didn't pick up was Uchida's clumsiness, or more precisely, her ability to knock things over and trip over her own feet with astonishing frequency. It amazed her that a girl who was so sure-footed climbing the hill, and who seemed to enjoy physical activity, was also so poor at maneuvering herself away from objects and staying on her feet while running. Conversely, however, Uchida showed little sign of gaining Yoshino's reliability in this regard, which was unfortunate.

It was quite a few weeks before Yoshino finally agreed to visit Uchida's temporary home down in the valley. She packed Yoshino way more than she really needed—for instance, Uchida barely brought anything up with her—and waved her goodbye, feeling as if she had just passed some sort of milestone.

When she traveled down to see it for herself, in the middle of Yoshino's second such trip, she found Yoshino participating in some sort of game involving rocks with a group of children. The girl smiled, looking at her.

It all seemed strangely surreal, but that night, the old man broken out the celebratory sake, and she was able to sleep satisfied with a job well done.

With that, summer was almost over.

* * *

"Want to come?" Yoshino asked.

"Hmm?" she asked, not sure she had understood it correctly. She was actively engaged in carefully tying a protective hat onto Yoshino's head, notwithstanding the impatient manner with which Uchida was watching them.

"I said: do you want to come with us, mother?" Yoshino asked. "On this hike?"

She blinked back at the girl, standing up. She was surprised; the two of them had always been unaccountably hostile about anyone going with them, though she had never really pressed them on that point.

She glanced at Uchida. The girl didn't look surprised, only impatient, which meant the two of them had discussed this beforehand. Strange, that she should look at Uchida for insights into Yoshino.

"I'd love to," she said, smiling gently. "Just let me go get dressed for it. I'm sorry, Yuka; you'll have to wait a little longer."

She patted the girl's head patronizingly, and headed back to her room. On the way there, she glanced back, and saw Yoshino repeat the gesture mockingly, prompting Uchida to complain loudly. This only caused Yoshino to laugh.

She smiled slightly, and changed into a bit more suitable clothing, as promised.

She was glad of the opportunity to go with them, but her presence seemed to make very little difference. The three of them talked initially, but pretty soon the conversation degenerated back to the two girls talking excitedly in front, while she walked quietly behind them. They navigated the winding trails, over the occasional fallen tree, through encroaching sheaves of grass, tearing up the vegetation on trails nearly entirely consumed by the wilderness. Occasionally, they stopped to remark upon some sort of bird or animal. Other than that, she marveled at their seemingly limitless reserves of topics to talk about.

There was nothing wrong with being the proverbial fifth wheel, she mused, looking through the trees at the almost fading twilight. It was a nice evening, the girls were having fun, and she didn't have to do anything but listen. Life was good.

She stopped, realizing she had lost track of them.

She looked around and yelled Yoshino's name, but there was no avoiding it: she must have failed to follow them at some turn. This was a problem, since she had no idea how to navigate back home. The seeds of panic began to grow inside her.

"Hey!" Yoshino's voice rang out, from her side.

She turned to look, and there they were, _off_ the trail, past a subtly beaten down patch of grass. She hadn't even thought to look there, which was she had missed them.

"What are you girls doing?" she asked, hurrying after them, annoyed at her own lack of familiarity with area. "The last thing you should be doing is going off the trail—"

"Shh!" Yoshino commanded. "Do you hear it?"

She tiled her head to listen and, after much effort, heard what seemed to be water far in the distance, exceedingly faint.

"The sound of water?" she asked.

"Yep," Yoshino said, nodding. "That's where we're going."

"But—"

Uchida grabbed her sleeve, interrupting her.

"We've been there plenty of times before," she said, looking up at her. "We'll be fine."

She still had her reservations, but she kept her silence, following them along the edge of a hill. Now that she looked carefully, the route they were following, while not well-defined enough to even be called a path, showed definite signs of repeatedly being trod upon. It was the beginnings of a trail.

Yoshino got farther and farther in front of them, while Uchida stayed with her. All three stayed completely silent.

The water got louder and louder, and she realized they must be close.

They arced around one final curve, and it became immediately apparent that they had reached the edge of the hills.

She almost gasped.

She had long ago gotten used to the view from the mansion grounds, but even that angle seemed to be inferior to what was visible from here. What was more, the sun was actively in the process of descending behind the horizon. It was breathtaking.

She regretted not bringing a camera, even though that particular idea hadn't even occurred to her until that very moment.

But Uchida was still walking, and she needed to follow.

Then, all of a sudden, she was there.

A secluded grove of trees, growing tenaciously on a patch of flat land at the very edge of the hill, affording the same view. In the center, a small creek descended in the very smallest of waterfalls, forming a large pool, before continuing onward.

It was, in a word, picturesque, and in the middle was Yoshino, sitting on a rock, shoes off, immersing her feet in the pool of water

She let out a breath, looking around, as Uchida moved to join Yoshino.

_I have to admit, they found something here_, she thought.

She walked up to join them.

"Even in a place like this," Yoshino commented, "there are fish."

Yoshino was referring to the tiny fish swirling around her feet. As she watched, sitting on another one of the large rocks, the girl crumbled up part of the rice snack she had been carrying and sprinkled it in the water. There was a brief frenzy of shimmering bodies on the surface of the water.

"Arisawa always lost us here," Uchida said matter-of-factly, her feet similarly immersed now. "Going off the trail really threw him off. He never figured it out."

"She was the one who heard the water, the first time," Yoshino added. "She's got quite some ears."

They spoke rapidly, without gaps, almost as if they were lecturing her.

"I see," she said, simply, not having come up with something better to say.

"It was our secret spot," Uchida said. "It's pretty nice, don't you think?"

She nodded. They say in silence for a moment. Something occurred to her.

"Was?" she asked. "What's changed?"

"Well, for one thing, I brought you here," Yoshino said, watching the fish, eyes downcast, stirring the water with a branch. "And we won't be able to come here again, not for a long while. Summer is nearly over."

She knew what that meant. Uchida had already begged her parents into letting her stay another week, as long as she got her summer homework done, but it was impossible to push it any further; the school year was about to resume. Uchida was going back down the very next day, and would leave for home in just four days.

"There's always next year," she said. "I'm sure your parents will let you come here next summer, too."

She addressed this last line to Uchida, who looked strangely unlike her usual energetic self.

"Yes," Yoshino responded, face unreadable in the suddenly quickening darkness.

She looked at the two of them, wondering how she could console them. It was always hard, to separate like this, but perhaps she could arrange some visits, or something like that.

She started to take off her shoes, feeling a little left out.

"I want to go with her," Yoshino said flatly, head down, still watching the fish.

"What?" she asked, surprised by the suddenness of the declaration.

"I want to switch schools," Yoshino said, looking up at her, having gathered the strength to make a more determined expression. "I want to go with her."

"Impossible," she said automatically. "How could you live there? We'd have to buy a house—"

Frankly, the idea had already occurred to her, ever since she realized how painful it would be for Uchida to leave at the end of summer. It just didn't make practical sense. She dreaded having to explain it to Yoshino.

Yoshino shook her head forcefully.

"No, we don't. My…parents already own one in the city. I know. I asked the old man about it."

Her tongue had caught on the reference to her parents, which probably also explained her slip in referring to the old man as "the old man".

If the old man had said so, then it was certainly true, even if he had understandably glossed over who, exactly, owned said house.

Privately, she conceded that it made things much easier.

_Why the hell didn't I think to ask?_

"Still," she insisted. "We can't just leave. The private school here is one of the best in the area. It's the only thing your parents ever—"

She regretted those words the moment they came out of her mouth.

"Who cares?" Yoshino snapped, jumping up, startling the fish around her ankles into fleeing. "Who the hell cares? If that's true, then that's all the more reason I want to get away from that accursed place! If I go back, all I'm going to get is teachers who think of me as trouble, classmates who won't talk to me, and jerkwad senpai who want to beat me up! I hate it!"

"Given the way you've acted," she growled. "will it be any different if you go—"

Uchida tugged on her sleeve, again, and she stopped.

"Please," Uchida asked, looking her in the eye pleadingly. "Let her move with me. If you do, I promise you things will be different this time. You know she can act different now, and I have friends I can introduce her to. But here, I don't think anyone can forgive her."

She experienced a disorienting moment, looking at Yoshino there in the twilight. Yoshino was standing, and she was seated, but Yoshino was only eye-level with her. It was so easy to forget how young the girl was.

_It shouldn't be so hard to remember!_

"Answer me this," she asked finally, moving her gaze elsewhere. "Why are you two so devoted to each other?"

The girls looked at each other. She had asked an awkward question, but she had a right to know.

Uchida deferred to the more eloquent Yoshino.

"What do you think?" Yoshino asked rhetorically. "How many my friends my age do you think I have? Of course I want to go."

There was a moment of silence. It wasn't really an answer.

"When I first saw her," Uchida said quietly. "She seemed like such a nice, quiet girl. I couldn't understand why she hated us so much. I couldn't understand why she hated _herself_. I wanted to know. I wanted her to stop. I wanted her to be happy. That was what it was. "

Yoshino looked at her, eyes wide.

"I want her to be happy," Uchida said.

Yoshino looked like she wanted to say something, but Yuka didn't meet her gaze.

The three of them looked at each other. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Why, after all, was she here?

"Alright," she conceded, finally. "I'll approve it. If the old man agrees, we'll move."

* * *

The old man agreed, after she expressed the opinion that if the girl's parents had a problem with it, they could damn well come and tell her that themselves. In addition, she presented him with a carefully worded letter repeating the same idea, with her signature on the bottom. The old man looked at it for only a few seconds before adding his own imprimatur below hers.

To her immense surprise, a response arrived a week later, as she was in the process of directing the installation of the decorations that Yoshino and Uchida had picked out of the catalog—it was suitable for what was essentially a young girl's house, but she had restrained their more questionable impulses, and made sure the décor showed a reasonable degree of taste.

The old man covertly handed her the letter, and she read it in a corner, away from the two girls, who were watching the workmen install the new curtains, pestering them with comments and unwanted advice.

Her parents strongly regretted the change in school, the letter stated, but were willing to defer to their greater experience and undoubtedly greater familiarity with the girl, and would not try to contest the decision. They hoped, however, that the girl would eventually be able to attend a more prestigious middle school and high school, where these things were more important.

Afterwards, she took a deep breath to control her anger, crumpled the letter in her fist, and buried it in her dress pocket, to be destroyed later.

* * *

As Uchida had promised, things went better this time. Hardly had she dropped her little transfer student off, when she spotted Uchida started introducing Yoshino to one of her friends, a bratty-looking boy. Yoshino's grades remained near the top of the class, and this time, her homeroom instructor arrived with only glowing praise of her model student behavior, with the only worrying note being that, in front of her classmates, the girl had a consistent tendency to refer to her parents for all the world as if they were right there at home waiting for her.

She and the old man both heaved a metaphorical sigh of relief, and she settled down into a much more relaxed rhythm of life.

The following summer, Uchida and Yoshino took joint trips back to the countryside, with its valleys and hills and ponds full of fish. She and the old man greeted the local servants who had stayed behind, and went back to worrying over the two girls and their mysterious hikes through the hills.

It was on a day late that summer that she and Uchida watched, open-mouthed, as Yoshino devastated the old man in round after round of chess before he, finally tiring of rematches, conceded:

"Obviously I have nothing left to teach you. I'm done for the day."

"That's nonsense," Yoshino responded. "Everything I've learned here has been from you."

"Yes, and you've finally surpassed the master, and I'll be honest—I'm not that much of a master, befogged old man that I am."

They waved goodbye cheerily as the old man left to shower and sleep.

They found him immobile in his bed the next day, an abstract smile carved on his face.

* * *

The old man had no living relatives anyone could identify. In his will, he stipulated only three things, all having to do with her. One, that he desired her to be head of the household in his place, and was giving her a promotion—this was not disputed by the other servants. Second, that, as was his right from the will of Yoshino's grandfather, he was bequeathing his rights as trustee onto her. Finally, that he was leaving all his earthly assets—which were not inconsiderable, given that he had been collecting salary for most of his life and barely spent a penny—to her.

It was all well and good, but she would much rather he had simply stayed alive.

The funeral was cozy, limited to only the household servants and whatever professional friends he had acquired in the course of his work. They agreed that it was only appropriate that his ashes would be buried somewhere in the family plot. No one was sure what he would have preferred for a funeral service, so she picked the standard Buddhist ceremony.

She was distracted, so it didn't register on her until after the service that the man in the third row who kept glancing at Yoshino, and who sat stony-faced at the end, was, in fact, an older version of the man in the painting of her parents.

Quite aside from all that, and most importantly, it was only the second time she would ever see Yoshino cry.

It began halfway through the monk's incantations, as stifled sobs that attracted the attention of those around her. She immediately leaned over and tried to comfort her, but it was too late. Despite the fact that the girl was obviously trying to stop, it grew uncontrollable and inconsolable. Not even Uchida, whom Yoshino had asked to attend for support, could dent it. She could see that Uchida's heart was breaking, as was her own.

That was when she decided that, come hell or high water, she would see this through to the end.

Yoshino never called her "mother" again.

* * *

She returned to the present with a start, shaking her head to clear the cobwebs of memory.

Yoshino continued to play the violin in front of her, bangs covering one eye. At 14, she was midway through her first major growth spurt, and it still surprised her how much taller she was getting.

As predicted, Yoshino had turned out to be an excellent violin player. Her tune on this occasion demanded retrospection and thought, and that was what she received.

Despite everything, though, she never managed to convince the girl to participate in any competitions. She had never really pushed very hard, honestly. She was fairly sure now why Yoshino didn't want to.

Yoshino poured her heart into her playing, to the degree that it was possible to read almost all her emotions from what she was playing. It was an intense experience for her—and intensely personal. In fact, she was fairly certain none of her friends had any idea she even played an instrument.

All except Uchida, of course, who was standing next to her.

After a final note, Yoshino took a deep breath and dropped her arm, looking down at the tombstone in front of her, and the fresh flowers in front of it.

They made this trip every year.

The girl turned toward her, and towards Uchida.

"I'm done. Let's go."

They nodded, knowing better than to linger, and turned to trot back across the grass.

"You looked like you were thinking about something," Yoshino asked her, as Arisawa once again insisted on opening the door for her, a practice the girl had recently started arguing about him with. Not today, though.

"It was nothing," she said, shaking her head.

Yoshino tilted her head queryingly, but didn't press the issue.

Arisawa started the car as they got in, and soon they were driving down a lightly-trafficked highway.

"So you're going home next week, right?" Yoshino asked, leaning forward in the back seat.

"Ah, yes," she responded, turning to face the girl.

This time she was going for a whole week. Yoshino was older now, and perfectly capable of taking care of herself for that long, so she allowed herself the luxury of seeing her parents for a little longer.

Truth be told, however, she wasn't sure it was such a good decision. The girl's older age brought with it another class of potential worries. Maybe she was just being paranoid, maybe she was just overthinking things…but some of their behavior of late raised her suspicions.

She had told Arisawa to watch the girls more carefully while she was gone, and to, as subtly as possible, make sure that Uchida's parents were actually there when Yoshino visited. He had raised an eyebrow at that, and rather bluntly told her she was imagining things, but she told him to do it anyway. What had been endearing and cute when they were kids was now strange and thought-provoking…

"You're thinking about something again," Yoshino said, looking at her with a demanding look.

"You two behave while I'm away, okay?" she said, dodging the question.

"Of course," Uchida said, not realizing the maneuver she had just pulled.

Yoshino shrugged, and dropped the topic.

"Do you mind if I go with you?" Yoshino asked instead. "To visit your parents?"

She looked at her in surprise.

"Ah, well, if it's okay," Yoshino continued, looking down. "I haven't met your parents, so it'd be nice, but I'd be infringing on your privacy and hospitality, so…"

She read Yoshino's expression, trying to judge what she was thinking. To her right, Arisawa didn't even pretend not to be eavesdropping.

Frankly, it'd be awkward, and she'd be within rights to turn it down, but…

"I guess I don't see why not," she said, smiling. "Just, uh, you know, it's my parents, so don't—"

"I'll behave," Yoshino said.

Uchida looked back and forth between the two of them, obviously trying to decide if she should try to invite herself. She forbore, however.

* * *

It would have been perfectly natural, at that point, to hire a long-distance taxi—it didn't seem nice to force Arisawa to drive them the whole distance and then drive back—but Yoshino insisted they simply take the bullet train, like she normally did.

It was a short ride, only an hour or so, and Yoshino spent the whole time with her face pressed against the window, looking out. It was nice to see her behave a little childishly, every once in a while.

Her parents knew about her charge, of course, and they had been warned to expect her coming, but even so, they looked unsure of what to expect. They had set out a variety of snacks and brought out the best of their tea. Things were much different, now, given the large sums of money she was sending home, but they knew it was much less than what Yoshino was used to, and they probably didn't quite believe her when she told them it would be perfectly alright to treat the girl as a normal guest, instead of a powerful employer.

Yoshino behaved politely, unpacked her own bags into the room they would be sharing, and gave no one any particular reason to be unsettled. Even so, the atmosphere was a little strange, and her parents didn't seem to know what to make of the girl insisting on helping with cooking dinner and washing the dishes.

Afterward, Yoshino stared at her father's chess set, scattered haphazardly on the coffee table, a detail which she herself had completely forgotten about, or else she would have hidden it.

"Do you play?" her father asked, noticing the girl looking.

She held her breath, a little nervously. Yoshino hadn't so much as touched the game in the past six years, and she herself hadn't ever dared to mention it.

Yoshino nodded, and sat down.

She still didn't dare relax.

"It helps to have a pastime that involves only sitting, given my condition," the wheel-chaired man said, automatically setting up the pieces. "Let's see how good you are."

"I haven't played in a while," Yoshino said. "I'm probably rusty."

"That's alright," he said.

She let out a breath. There was nothing to worry about, after all.

The game helped loosen things up a little, but the awkwardness still persisted.

_Well, we have a whole week_, she thought.

* * *

If anything, things got too comfortable.

"So you mean to tell us you haven't tried to get a boyfriend _at all_?" her mother asked from across the table.

She grimaced internally. Among other things, she had been counting on Yoshino's presence to act as a shield against questions like this, but her parents didn't seem to think of her as much of a problem anymore.

She glanced at the girl she was thinking of, who was drinking her tea and quietly observing. Eventually, her parents had settled on treating her as a sort of adoptive granddaughter, even going so far as to perform the cliché ritual of constantly attempting to give her sweets, snacks, and extra food at mealtime. Since Yoshino was old enough now not to just blithely accept, the effect was rather comedic. She had personally even gone so far as to point out that gifts of food might not be the best thing to impart on a teenage girl, even though she had never witnessed Yoshino watching anyone's weight but Uchida's.

"No, Mom," she said, deliberately showing her impatience with this line of questioning. "It's just like I told you last time. I don't have the time for things like that."

"You promised last time you'd look into it," her father pointed out.

That had been one of those little white lies.

"Things came up, okay?" she explained.

"And just because you don't get to go out very much doesn't mean you can't do anything. I mean, you'll be thirty soon. It's getting late." her mother insisted. "Surely, there's someone you work with, like, er, the chauffeur, what was his name…"

"Arisawa," Yoshino unhelpfully supplied.

"Yes, him," her mother continued. "He's not a bad prospect. You've been telling us about him—"

Yoshino raised an eyebrow.

"I also told you he was seven years older than me!" she complained loudly.

"Is he?" her mother asked.

"Yes!"

"Hmm, I'd forgotten. Well, still, that's not so bad," her mother demurred.

"Look, I'll get to stuff like this when the time is right," she said, leaning on the table and rubbing her forehead, showing her exasperation. "Not now. Let's talk about something else. Can't you see you're disturbing the girl?"

This last was an outright fabrication, considering that Yoshino, rather than looking bothered, was wearing an intrigued expression which annoyed her greatly.

"Yes, and look how well she turned out!" her mother said, grabbing the girl by the shoulder, which seemed to surprise her. "Think about it! You're good at it. You could have another daughter, or maybe even a son. Wouldn't that be great?"

She was too busy gritting her teeth and fuming at her mother to notice her slip of the tongue, but Yoshino looked up at the woman, and her father leaned over to whisper in her mother's ear.

Her mother's eyes widened in surprise.

"Ah, well, I, uh, mispoke," the woman said, flustered, looking at Yoshino. "I didn't mean anything by it, just sometimes you two are so close—"

"It's alright," Yoshino reassured, amused.

She, for her part, was too busy making a gesture of despair at her parents, pressing her hand into her face.

"So, uh, why don't you tell us about how you're doing in school?" her father asked Yoshino, diplomatically changing the subject and pointing his chopsticks. "I hear you're top of the class."

"I'm not," the girl responded.

"Yes, but you're close enough," she said, accepting the change in topic. "Why don't tell them something about your student council work?"

"I guess," Yoshino conceded.

* * *

"So is it true?" Yoshino asked her, later that night, as they tried to sleep.

"Is what true?" she asked, looking over at the girl lying next to her.

Yoshino turned under the covers to face her.

"Are you and Arisawa really—"

"No!" she responded, not even giving the girl a chance to finish the sentence. "And you know very well that we're not! My parents are just daft."

Yoshino looked thoughtful.

"Would you like to? You don't have to hold back, for my sake. I wouldn't—"

She patted Yoshino on the head to quiet her down, and to trigger the annoyed face she secretly thought was cute as a button. It was remarkably similar to the one Uchida tended to make, actually.

"Don't worry about me, okay? That's not your duty. I know what I'm doing."

She turned away.

Half a minute later, Yoshino started snickering loudly.

"Go to sleep!" she ordered.

* * *

On the way back, she thought about the future, looking out at the landscape scroll by.

She had yet to tell Yoshino about her exact situation. As far as the girl knew, her parents controlled the family finances and dispensed the money, and for some reason didn't care about her. She would have to know someday, of course, but she didn't want to tell her just yet.

There were other things to think about. The requirement that Yoshino marry to complete her inheritance was absurd, but one they would have to deal with. Besides that, if Yoshino ever did, she would find herself with a whole new set of responsibilities to deal with. She wasn't too sure of the details, but it was her impression that the group of trustees was running a substantial corporate operation, one the girl would have to take responsibility for, even if she intended to be a hands-off owner. And there was no guaranteeing that the "trustees" would welcome the return of a member of a family that they surely considered terribly delinquent. Would Yoshino be able to handle all that? Did she even want it?

With a sigh, Yoshino leaned over onto her shoulder, apparently intending to sleep.

Speaking of marriage…while she didn't share the other servants' excessive focus on class and wealth, she held the view that it simply wouldn't be a good idea for the girl to marry anyone too out of range. There were problems with compatibility, social reputation, not to mention issues with gold-digging. It was more trouble than it was worth, but she had no idea how to say this to the girl.

Quite apart from her paranoid delusions involving Uchida, if Yoshino were to come home one day and introduce a boy from a school, a scenario she was depressingly aware was growing more likely by the year, she would have no idea how to deal with it. And even if she accepted it, there was the question of the girls' parents, who might, for all she knew, suddenly develop an interest. Their letter, all those years ago, had certainly implied they might. It hurt her head just to think about.

The one advantage of cloistered private schooling, she had realized, was that it greatly restricted a child's social circle. None of this would be a worry had she simply kept Yoshino from moving.

But it wouldn't have been worth it. She knew that. She had no regrets.

Still, she had taken the trouble to make vague comments to Yoshino about it, and to encourage her to join her wealthier peers in some of their social get-togethers, which she had taken the time to go and find out about. Though the girl was surely intelligent enough to know what she was getting at, Yoshino adroitly ignored her hints, and she didn't have the heart to really push her on it.

She looked down at the girl on her shoulder, who by now was quite asleep, breathing quietly. She smiled slightly.

All that was too far in the future to think about.

She shifted her position, as gently as she could, and tried to sleep too.


End file.
